I never liked the idea of giving interviews. One says many things, but when they are published, they become shortened, condensed. The ideas lose their meaning.
Man can have only a certain number of teeth, hair and ideas; there comes a time when he necessarily loses his teeth, hair and ideas.
You can talk good ideas out of existence.
Ideas are elusive, slippery things. Best to keep a pad of paper and a pencil at your bedside, so you can stab them during the night before they get away.
For me, writing is really an agony. I feel as if I have a huge, luminous idea that has the potential to be really profound, and then when I set it down on paper, I find the power of the idea has been hugely weakened in the process of transmission.
The danger is that if you have a bunch of ideas that you forget to use.
Every composer knows the anguish and despair occasioned by forgetting ideas which one had no time to write down.
Every day, I think of designs, but I don't write them down, and I forget. If only I had an office.
