“The key difference between a geek and a critic is that acritic digs deep and tries to get behind the surface of things,for better or worse, while a geek is interested in his own hedonism,the thrill of discovery.A geek is expansive and associativeand doesn’t necessarily care what a film or a scene ‘means’. It’sthe difference between the encyclopaedia and the scholar. Acritic likes an interesting association, a nice phrase; the geekadmires the beau geste, a pulpy story and its codes of honourtaken seriously.Tarantino rather combines those two roles. He is encyclopaedicbut also interpretive. He is a human Rolodex ofcredits. His films are like stuffed overnight bags breaking at theseams. The Handel of filmmakers, he takes the whole ofcinema as his resource. But he also provides new meanings,new interpretations of old moments by the way he recontextualizesthem.”

“The way I see it, everyone's a Geek of some sort. Football, films, music - it doesn't matter what the interest is; if you're fascinated by it, then you're a Geek. Simple as that.”

“Paradoxically, that large screen in the cavernous, crowdedroom creates intimacy. And violence is an intimate act. If youare punching someone, or if you are pinpointing someone inthe telescope of your rifle, you are as close to your victim as toa lover, trying to think like them, anticipate their moves, overcomethem.”

“Like the atomic bomb, it’s there; like the bomb, the temptationwill always exist to use it.There can no longer be a worldwithout the atomic bomb; there can no longer be a worldwithout violent movies.”

“Before he had come to the town he had known about nothing but death: here he had learnt to live, to decide things for himself; he had learnt what it felt like to wash in clean water in the sunshine until he was clean himself, and what it felt like to satisfy his hunger with food that tasted good; he had learnt the sound of laughter that was free from cruelty; he had learnt the meaning of beauty”

“The sun glistened on a drop of water as it fell from his hand to his knee. David wiped it off, but it left no tidemark: there was no more dirt to rub away. He took a deep breath and shivered. He was David. Everything else was washed away, the camp, its smell, its touch--and now he was David, his own master, free--free as long as he could remain so.”

“And his eyes frighten me, too. They're the eyes of an old man, an old man who's seen so much in life that he no longer cares to go on living. They're not even desperate... just quiet and expectant, and very, very lonely, as if he were quite alone of his own free choice.”