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Sadly, my German is almost non-existent, although I did a little at school.

I'm German in my mind, but from a Germany that doesn't exist any more.

My most interesting correspondence is with my translators. I marvel at their sensitivity over certain passages that just anyone, even if he knows German well, would not appreciate.

I'm into all things German. Everything that I own is German. As far as cars go, anyway.

I understand German; I can read German.

I'm far more relaxed with German. I'm a control freak. I like to know exactly who's saying and doing what.

I know thousands of German's who are totally different from me, so we're not alike, we're not the same.

The German language speaks Being, while all the others merely speak of Being.

I can't say I'm thankful about being German because I sometimes experience it as a huge burden. But it is an integral part of me and I wouldn't want to escape it. I have accepted it.

I felt no need to write a German-bashing play.