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I'm in my apartment in trendy Tribeca. I've been down here for 37 years, from before it was a fashionable neighbourhood. It's a wonderful place; it looks over the Hudson River. I can see 30 miles into New Jersey. My landlord would like me to die because the rent is very low. I'm trying to outlive him. He can get a lot more if I disappear.

The landlords are not agriculturists; that is an abuse of terms which has been too long tolerated.

And for myself, I think for the present He is calling me to another land; but how long shall be my abode, or what employment He has for me there, I know not, for I cannot think He is taking me there to live and lurk only.

They can't take your house and give it to the mayor's mistress, even if they pay you for it. But they can, apparently, take your house and tear it down to make room for a development of trendy shops and restaurants, a hotel and so on.

I'm attached to my land in Pantelleria as if I'd inherited it. Acting is my job, Pantelleria is my home.

I am not going to the House of Lords. Never. That's not who I am. That's not where I am.

I don't have to be a 'gazillionaire;' what's important to me is to just being able to work.

I just wanted to be an ordinary parish priest.

I am very much looking forward to being a parish priest.

I want to be a successful landlord. I like real estate.