(He refers to being trapped under the wall:) I'm lying there in a bed of pain, and I think, "Oh God, my career is over. I'm screwed at this time. I'm not going to walk probably again."
But there are wonderful things because after a while you recognize the pattern, you recognize the elation. You recognize the infant depression, the tears of shock and that come through. And it makes for extraordinary discoveries.
I mean, the other night I woke up in pain and I suddenly realized why perhaps a priest might need to be celibate. (He laughs.) Now, I'm a man who believes actually that any night you spend waking up in bed without a beautiful woman being there is a wasted night. But, when you wake up alone, in pain, it gives God a chance, should he be there – it may only be the echo of your own voice perhaps, but it gives him a chance – to talk to you in that silence. And you have to listen, and you might have to ask questions about yourself and where you're going. You know, what really matters.
And sometimes the dialogue is just innately funny, you know. "Ouch!" I say.
"Are you awake?"
"Yes, I'm awake and I won't be back asleep again tonight," I say.
"Ah, I'm sorry about that."
"A question for you: Why did have to be wall? What about a small lamp? Why a wall!"
"Well, you know, sometimes you very important people are very hard to get to."
"You've got to me now."
"Do I have your attention?"
"You have my attention."