There are certain pieces of music that are always attached to certain books.

I want to see me to the end working, living for myself. Ripeness is all.

It is such an abundance of idiocy that you lose courage. That you lose hope. I don't want to lose hope. I get through every day. I'm pretty good. I work. I sleep. I sing. I walk.

Peter Rabbit, for all its gentle tininess, loudly proclaims that no story is worth the writing, no picture worth the making, if it is not a work of imagination.

One of the few graces of getting old - and God knows there are few graces - is that if you've worked hard and kept your nose to the grindstone, something happens: The body gets old but the creative mechanism is refreshed, smoothed and oiled and honed. That is the grace. That is what's happening to me.

My big concern is me and what do I do now until the time of my death. That is valid. That is useful. That is beautiful. That is creative.

You can start making up any kind of story if you want to.