A home filled with nothing but yourself. It's heavy, that lightness. It's crushing, that emptiness.

Come away with me, he said, we will live on a desert island. I said, I am a desert island. It was not what he had in mind.

In Paradise there are no stories, because there are no journeys.

It made him feel invisible—not that he wanted to feel anything else.

The characters [of The Tempest] have always been favorites of mine. It is one of his meditations on art - what it does.

Everybody was going along thinking that it was a day like any other day, and bang, down went the Twin Towers. Changed everything. So you can't really predict the future, but you can say, "Boy, are those glaciers ever melting." You can measure that, and you can say, "When they're all melted there won't be any Athabasca River," and you can say, "What will happen to the oil sands then?" because you need a lot of water to make that oil. "Where's that going to come from?" You can say things like that.

He stops, looks up at this window, and I can see the white oblong of his face. We look at each other. I have no rose to toss, he has no lute. But it's the same kind of hunger.