“I'm not the man to baulk at a low smell,
I’m not the man to insist on asphodel.
This sounds like a He-fellow, don’t you think?
It sounds like that. I belch, I bawl, I drink.”

“Sometimes when I'm with you, I remember things I lost when I was your age. Like I remember the sound of the rain and the smell of the wind.”

“Are you sulking?”
“Me? No. I don’t sulk.”
“You sound like you’re sulking.”
“I’m just waiting for the violent urges to subside.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Work, my dear Blushweaver, is like fertilizer.”
“It smells?”
He smiled. “No, I was thinking that work is like fertilizer in that I’m glad it exists; I just don’t ever want to get stuck in it.”

“It sounds like I'm always being facetious. That's why I never get voice over work. 'You sound like you hate the product.”

“The only man I knew who could make a curse sound like a caress.”

“I think pot should be legal. I don’t smoke it, but I like the smell of it.”

“The other morning, I woke up. I was frightened – I’m always frightened in the morning, I don’t know where I am. But I heard this beautiful reassuring sound, it sounded like my childhood. I thought, what’s that? Is it? Church bells behind the hill? Or, no – it’s an ice cream van, in the rain. It was me, BREATHING!”

“I like the natural sound of a room. All the rooms have their own sound, so it's a matter of putting it where you like and seeing what it sounds like.”

“Man, sometimes it takes you a long time to sound like yourself.”