Like a boxer in a title fight, you have to walk in that ring alone.

Some people find it's easier to hate.

Forced to recognize our inhumanity, our reason coexists with our insanity. And though we choose between reality and madness, it's either sadness or euphoria.

Sergeant O'Leary is walking the beat, at night he becomes a bar tender.

Have you listened to the radio lately? Have you heard the canned, frozen and processed product being dished up to the world as American popular music today?

I consider myself to be an inept pianist, a bad singer, and a merely competent songwriter. What I do, in my opinion, is by no means extraordinary.

It's OK if you mess up. You should give yourself a break.