I have an addictive personality. Boarding school merely sent me more quickly on the downward spiral that dominated my childhood.

I don't mind not being cool; I wear a cardigan.

If you want something Scottish, go get yourself a kilt.

I went to China for a brief working visit, and I thought that Shanghai was interesting, but Beijing totally grabbed me.

I realised that to compare your insides with other people's outsides leads to unhappiness.

Christians, you and your churches don't get to be millionaires while other people have nothing at all. They're your bloody rules! Either stick to them or abandon the faith.

I have learnt that I am incapable of packing the right amount of clothing, probably because I start 10 minutes before I'm supposed to leave, and that I truly hate airports.

I find myself by default an atheist but fairly unhappily so. It would be bloody marvelous if there was a god.

I'm more pompous and self-assured and determined that if - you know - if the truth can be told so as to be understood, it will be believed.

My purist comedy friends accuse me of being a Jack of all trades and master of none.

If Pac-Man had affected us as kids, we'd all be running around in dark rooms, munching pills and listening to repetitive electronic music.

A thankful heart, a grateful soul.

Action w/o orchestration is burn out

Questioning is not the mode of conversation among gentlemen.

No matter what you do for a living you should get paid for your work, whether you're washing dishes or recording songs.

By the time you're eighty years old you've learned everything. You only have to remember it.

Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.

If you want to continue leading, you must continue changing.

Painting is concerned with the ten things you can see: these are darkness and brightness, substance and color, form and place, remoteness and nearness, movement and rest.

The Games have been decimated. If you take away the Eastern Bloc, you take away 50% of the medals

Sidwell, Parker and Duff are all coming back to pastures old, as the saying goes