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I was born in New York City on a cold January night when the water pipes in our apartment froze and burst. Fortunately, my mother was in the hospital rather than at home at the time.

When I started walking and I looked down and I saw on the floor this water, which looked like, you know, water in your basement except it happened to be in the auxiliary building of a nuclear power plant.

When you're working on a lake and it's dark and cold out and you can't see what's underwater, it is freaking scary!

I would write a scientific paper with the devil, if it was on high temperatures. The fellow's probably an authority.

The story as told in The Odyssey doesn't hold water. There are too many inconsistencies.

I think it was lucky that during most of the work on the Odyssey I lived on Homer's sea in houses that were, in one case, shaken by the impact of the Mediterranean winter storms on the rocks below.

It was the defining event and remains a thousand degrees hot.

Obviously, I'm not looking in the core of the reactor, but I am looking at what, at that time, was considered the source of the trouble, which was the water and where it was.

I guess my thermometer for my baseball fever is still a goose bump.