I say my hell is the closet I'm stuck inside.

Isn't it strange how we move out lives for another day? Like skipping a beat, what if a great wave should wash us all away?

I don't believe in trickle-down economics. I don't think that people who have the most are inclined to share it, generally.

I go back to South Africa at least once a year, sometimes twice, and usually for a month. And probably, I'm guessing, I'll spend more time back there as I get older.

When I listen to my favorite songwriters, they have such simple melodies and chords. I occasionally manage to stop at the right time, but all too often I keep on going until I have way too many notes and words. But that's just what I do.

Turns out, not where, but who you're with that really matters.

I do still get shocked every once in a while when I catch my reflection when I'm walking past a glass building, but it's in my mind about getting older and finding out what I'm going to look like as it unfolds - or as it folds, depending on where the marks and scars land.