Something about the goat dancing made me want to cry.

Whatever we call it - mind, character, soul - we like to think we possess something that is greater than the sum of our neurons and that animates us.

My chronic feelings of emptiness and boredom came from the fact that I was living a life based on my incapacities, which were numerous.

My family had a lot of characteristics - achievements, ambitions, talents, expectations - that all seemed to be recessive in me.

It's a long way from not having enough serotonin to thinking the world is "stale, flat and unprofitable"; even further to writing a play about a man driven by that thought.

Was insanity just a matter of dropping the act?

In a strange way we were free. We'd reached the end of the line. We had nothing more to lose. Our privacy, our liberty, our dignity: all of this was gone and we were stripped down to the bare bones of our selves