When you grow up in a family of languages, you develop a kind of casual fluency, so that languages, though differently colored, all seem transparent to experience.

I learned enough Hebrew to stagger through a meaningless ceremony that I scarcely remember.

While I don't script and I don't use other performers, I think my taste for underlying precision gives me something in common with Allan and George Brecht.

Children frequently sing meaningful phrases to themselves over and over again before they learn to make a distinction between singing and saying.

A myth is the name of a terrible lie told by a smelly little brown person to a man in a white suit with a pair of binoculars.

While I've had a great distaste for what's usually called song in modern poetry or for what's usually called music, I really don't think of speech as so far from song.

I can manage a prose format as long as I keep closer to Laurence Sterne than to Henry James.