When I look at great works of art or listen to inspired music, I sense intimate portraits of the specific times in which they were created.

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.

If you tell kids they can't have something, that's what they want.

I look at some of the songs I wrote years ago and I can't believe I wrote such crap.

It feels great to have a #1 album.

I don't know why people thought I was retiring.

The happiest times in my life were when my relationships were going well - when I was in love with someone, and someone was loving me. But in my whole life, I haven't met the person I can sustain a relationship with yet. So I'm discontented about that. I'm angry with myself. I have regrets.