There are so many people out there who think they are fans of Pink Floyd - and certainly the work I did in Pink Floyd - who are still furious that I left.

When you've done something, certainly if you create a piece of music, you then hear it with fresh ears when you play it for somebody else.

You take the risk of being rejected.

You run and you run to catch up to the sun but it's sinking, racing around to come up behind you again.

Did you see the frightened ones, Did you hear the falling bombs, Did you ever wonder why we had to run for shelter in the promise of a brave new world unfurlled beaneath the clear blue skies. Good bye blue skies.

...why is an artist an artist? Artists simply do feel and see things in a different way to other people. In a way it's a blessing, but it can also be a terrible curse. There's a great deal of satisfaction to be earned from it but often it's also a terrible burden.

Not the torturer will scare me, nor the body's final fall, nor the barrels of death's rifles, nor the shadows on the wall, nor the night when to the ground the last dim star of pain, is hurled but the blind indifference of a merciless, unfeeling world.