Sit down and read. Educate yourself for the coming conflicts.

I learned in the early part of my career that labor must bear the cross for others' sins, must be the vicarious sufferer for the wrongs that others do.

I nursed men back to sanity who were driven to despair. I solicited clothes for the ragged children, for the desperate mothers. I laid out the dead, the martyrs of the strike.

If they want to hang me, let them. And on the scaffold I will shout Freedom for the working class!

So here is one of my theories on happiness: we cannot know if we have lived a truly happy life until the very end. This view of life and death was reinforced by my close witnessing of the buildup to the death of Philip Gould. Philip was without doubt my closest friend in politics. When he died, I felt like I had lost a limb.

My fear is dying badly, through illness or injury. But what a glorious demise it would be to burn up in space.

I knew Marilyn over a two-year period. I met her first on a movie called 'Let's Make Love.' I photographed her at that time on and off through the time of her death. I was 22 years old and she was 34 or 35.

I feel that writers think with their noses to the ground, and the dark stuff kind of comes to me more, even though I really am sort of an upbeat guy. It's an honest descent into darkness. And you can't have the joy without the grief - it's why we listen to Mozart's 'Requiem.'