For sure, one moment really defined the path that I was to take in the future, and that was when I won the Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions in New York in April of 1995. I had just turned 25 two days before the finals concert, and when I won, I had no idea how my life would change because of it.

If I can transport audiences for the three or four hours they're at the opera, to make them forget all of their worries, the bills they have to pay and all that, then I've done my job. That, for me, is very gratifying.

I perform in opera houses in the centres of big cities. We live in 20 acres of forest. You need that space to recover and renew.

It's the worst feeling, coming back after a performance when you are on a real high, and you go back alone to an apartment or a hotel room. People think we sit in hotels and eat bon bons. But the lifestyle can be very stressful.

I'm very curious to know what it's like, death - I always say to my wife, 'I wonder if we'll have the 'New York Times' when we're dead.'

People always say that pregnant women have a glow. And I say it's because you're sweating to death.

Sometimes it seems the whole purpose of pets is to bring death into the house.

I don't want to hear about my death.