Sometimes when I don't want to cry, I cry. And when I want to I can't. It's subconscious. Like sexual performance.

I thought I had reached a point in life where everything would be smooth. But it is not. It just gets more jagged and pitted and filled with turns that take you into the dark recesses of your mind. It never seems to get easy.

Artists die twice. First creatively. Then physically. The second one is the easiest.

Polo is like tennis - you literally have to live it.

I think I'd like to be remembered as someone who beat the odds through just plain determination. ... that I persevered. Because I think that being somewhat of a pest to life, constantly plaguing and pursuing, will bring results.

Suddenly I've got an overwhelming desire to surround myself with the aura of classical and Romantic art.

I think there's something about being a neophyte that's refreshing and hard to duplicate; it brings about real innovation. Innovation usually comes about through blind ignorance.