The repeated lies become history, but they don't necessarily become the truth.

It struck me that distant cities are designed precisely so you can know where you came from.

Increasingly I think of myself as some strange and solitary conductor, introduced to a group of very dynamic musicians who happen to be my characters, and I have no idea how they are going to play together, and I have certainly no idea how I am going to put manners on them.

There's a part of me that thinks perhaps we go on existing in a place even after we've left it.

It is not fashionable anymore, I suppose, to have a regard for one's mother in the way my brother and I had then, in the mid-1950s, when the noise outside the window was mostly wind and sea chime.

The luxury of age was the giving up of vanity.

I have the most charmed, most - I feel entirely blessed and lucky that I have the life that I have.