I met Ferdinand de Saussure on a night like this. On love, he said, "I'm not so sure I even know what it is. No understanding, no closure. It is a nemesis. You can't use a bulldozer to study orchids," he said, "so we don't know anything you don't know. Anything, I don't know anything about love. But we are nothing, you are nothing, I am nothing without love." I'm just a great composer and not a violent man, but I lost my composure and I shot Ferdinand, crying, "It's well and kosher to say you don't understand, but this is for Holland-Dozier-Holland!" His last words were... His fading words were...