His books were the closest thing he had to furniture and he lived in them the way other men live in easy chairs.

He had no money and no home; he lived entirely on the road of the racing circuit, sleeping in empty stalls, carrying with him only a saddle, his rosary, and his books...The books were the closest thing he had to furniture, and he lived in them the way other men live in easy chairs.

I'm attracted to subjects who overcome tremendous suffering and learn to cope emotionally with it

My work was entirely nonfiction.

While it's really hard to do, at the same time, I'm escaping my body, which I really want to do. I'm living someone else's life. I get very intensely into the story, into the interviews and the research. I'm experiencing things along with my subjects. I have a freedom I don't have in my physical life

My illness is excruciating and difficult to cope with. It takes over your entire life and causes more suffering than I can describe.

Without dignity, identity is erased. In its absence, men are defined not by themselves, but by their captors and the circumstances in which they are forced to live.