Beware the old man in young guy's clothes. If he's over 35 and comes to pick you up looking as though he's headed for a skateboarding competition while you are dressed to go to a nice restaurant, this is not a good sign.

Beware the cute, hot guy who kind of reminds you of the parent you don't get along with: your cold, distant father who left when you were a kid or your hot-tempered mother whom you could never please.

No one would argue against the fact that L.A. leads the country in opportunities for being hip and pretentious.

I think people figure out early in their lives what currency they can work in.

Climbing is my art; I get so much joy and gratification from it.

I'm happy to sacrifice a big pay cheque for my happiness, if that's not too corny a thing to say. It's probably more naive than mature to say that, maybe, but that's how I feel.

Money's a necessary evil, there to give you moments. It gives me things I couldn't have - nice things - but happiness? That's a not a question of money and fame. Quite the opposite.

Art is not the kind of thing where you get what you put into it all the time. So I learned to not expect anything other than the sort of joy of having a poem in front of me.