Most artists I know had one person in their life who told them they were the second coming of the baby Jesus, and another person that told them they weren't worth anything, and they believed them both, you know?

I was always concerned with writing to my age at a particular moment. That was the way I would keep faith with the audience that supported me as I went along.

You ride in a limousine the first time, it's a big thrill but after that it's just a stupid car.

Got a wife and kid in Baltimore Jack, I went out for a ride and I never went back. Like a river that don't know where it's flowing, I took a wrong turn and I just kept going.

You get used to anything, sooner or later it just becomes your life.

Is there anybody alive out there?

What if what you do to survive kills the things you love?