Now I'm an old Christmas tree, the roots of which have died. They just come along and while the little needles fall off me replace them with medallions.

Fake is as old as the Eden tree.

Now I'm an old Christmas tree, the roots of which have died. They just come along and while the little needles fall off me replace them with medallions.

The smell of pine needles, spruce and the smell of a Christmas tree - those to me, are the scents of the holidays.

My mother and father were both much more remarkable than any story of mine can make them. They seem to me just mythically wonderful.

Everything about me is a contradiction, and so is everything about everybody else. We are made out of oppositions; we live between two poles. There's a philistine and an aesthete in all of us, and a murderer and a saint. You don't reconcile the poles. You just recognize them.