You can step in the same river but the water will always be new.

Time was a thief, he stole your life away from you and the only way you could get it back was to outwit him and snatch it right back.

(although anyone with half a brain must surely be mired in existential gloom all the time)

What if we had a chance to do it again and again, until we finally did get it right? Wouldn't that be wonderful?

I find the past so fascinating. Photographs are strange, almost surreal, almost here yet gone. I slip into thinking what the past must have been like and I enjoy creating that ambience and atmosphere - 1730 to around 1870 is the most interesting period.

I think about death a lot, I really do, because I can't believe I won't exist. It's the ego isn't it? I feel that I should retreat into a better form of Zen Buddhism than this kind of ego-dominated thing. But I don't know, I mean, I want to come back as a tree but I suspect that it's just not going to happen, is it?

Sometimes it was harder to change the past than it was the future.