Your music sounds better on the radio, for some reason. It's an amazing feeling. I hope it never goes away.

I attribute a scab to the present state of society. The way the scab looks in its worst state is gross and chaotic and horrible, that's now, but when it breaks away, there's a brand new piece of skin that's stronger than before. It's like creation out of chaos.

Music draws from almost the identical place as art does, which really is that intangible - it's like you're pulling from the ether. I don't know where it comes from.

That first plunge under the shore break on a chilly fall morning. It forces a sound out of one's body that is kind of a whoo-ahhh! - shocking and refreshing all at once. You become acutely aware of your body and your surroundings, which is helpful when you're about to paddle out to sea.

All of us are heaven-sent, and there was never meant to be only one.

I'll make music, whether or not anyone is listening, for the rest of my life. It's a natural form of expression for me, the same way I draw and write and sing.

The girl I find who wants to talk about quantum theory in a bar is the one I want to marry.