It's a holy city for music.

It is the middle of December now, and we are about to travel to Switzerland - where we plan to ski a little, relax a little, and shoot a Dutch politician a little.

I admit I can't shake the idea that there is virtue in suffering, that there is a sort of psychic economy, whereby if you embrace success, happiness and comfort, these things have to be paid for.

To be able to pretend to be something that I'm frankly not is very liberating and exciting.

Love is a word. A sound. Its association with a particular feeling is arbitrary, unmeasurable, and ultimately meaningless

Piano was - well, all musical instruments were taught in this very rigid, formal, classical method when I was young.

Happiness is the twinkle in your grandmother's eye as you reverse the tractor off her legs.