My sisters were going out with artists and poets, and eventually it was the creative world which attracted me.

Whereas Schaeffer and Henry were working like samplers, their idea was to capture those sounds which couldn't be serially calibrated because they were too complex in character.

I wanted to play piano, and that slid quickly into writing - it wasn't enough to play other people's notes: I had to write notes too.

I have problems with machines which aren't gestural.

I probably went to musique concrete concerts - though not the very first ones - at the beginning of the 50s.

Electronic music used pure sounds, completely calibrated. You had to think digitally, as it were, in a way that allowed you to extend serial ideas into other parameters through technology.

Well, first I studied piano. I wasn't very satisfied because I though my teachers were dumb... and repressive.

I was born in Paris, and I haven't moved, except until now - I live in the suburbs and I hate it.

Boulez seemed to me to be a guy who wrote laws. Like a company lawyer.

With the piano I'm completely in control of the gestural situation-not that I'm going to play the piece myself, but I know what's difficult, what's impossible.

The only real security that a man can have in this world is a reserve of knowledge, experience and ability.

The most useful form of time travel would be to go back a year or two and rectify the mistakes we made.

One of the things you learn operating in the technology industry is disruptions are occurring every day.

The time for crying with your girlfriends about a broken heart is over chocolate ice cream and chick flicks—not stun guns and bulletproof vests.

No mortal eye has ever fully seen a flash of lightning ... for no matter how firmly we look, our eyes are sure to be dazzled.

We often feel paralyzed by choice and make no choice. But the thing is, no choice is a choice. If you’re not doing something about it, you’re doing something about it.

Who is Dr. A. von Holstein? And is he related, by chance, to a race of cows?

I told her about the man, not my daddy, she said, He was only making you into a real girl. I didn’t understand. But I made myself believe her. I was a real girl now. But what was I before?

No more like together than is chalke to coles.

I know noble accents And lucid, inescapable rhythms; But I know, too, That the blackbird is involved In what I know.