Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy, out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy. Workin' on mysteries without any clues, workin' on our night moves.

He spent all night staring down at the lights on L.A., wondering if he ever could go home.

It's a rite of passage for the everyman, to a higher ground.

I'm really glad I didn't have kids earlier, because I probably would have ignored them. I was so into my career. I could just go and play a ton of shows, night after night after night. I can't do that anymore.

Every now and then you'll nail one that's really, really special. And that's what you live for.

Sometimes you can hear them talk, other times you can't. All the same old cliches, is that a woman or a man?

That's a good way to live, go against the wind.