October's gold is dim — the forests rot, The weary rain falls ceaseless, while the day Is wrapped in damp.

It's amazing, the amount of detail and thought that goes into just an average day. Between the things you see on the news, or on the subway, or whatever, it all gets in there. You sort of shut most of it out, but it all goes in.

In terms of writing, I think something happens to you, and you think, "Oh I'm going to write about that. That's an emotional event." But obviously, if you keep going, and it's something you do with regularity, you've got to find other ways to write.

I'm absolutely flooded with a raucous energy to get out into the world and tell my story again. I feel like this is spring. After a period of shriveling, out come the leaves.

And come, blue deeps! magnificently strown With coloured clouds - large, light, and fugitive.

That's what music is for me. It's a place to go to.

I don't really know why I'm such an emotional person, that's just how I was born. It's a problem. It's not easy to be married to me.