I Think, At Heart, Unless

Everything I Do Has The Tinge Of The Finite, Of My Own Demise. At Some Point You Either Accept Death Or You Just Keep Pushing It Back As You Get Older And Older. I've Accepted It.

There Were Only Two Times In My Life When I've Actually Felt Down About Things And Gotten Myself Into A Full Mental Mess. One Of The Times Was In 1982. I Had A Horrible Time For A Few Months And Felt Pretty Desperate. Then Again In 1984, For Various Reasons, Not All Of Them Within My Control. Since Then, I Just Wander In And Out Of Black Moods.

There's No Hope Of Me Becoming Completely Relaxed On Stage. If I Did, I'd Sit Down And Doze Off.

I'm In The Strange Position Of The World Drifting Away From Me, But You Know What? I'm Actually Quite Content With That. It Doesn't Bother Me In The Slightest. I Don't Feel Like, 'oh God, I'm Being Left Behind.'

I Entirely Approve The Measures Proposed By You In Relation To The Marines Who Are Lately Captives In Tripoli. Therefore Execute Them.