Tomorrow belongs to those who can hear it coming.

My father worked for a children's home called Dr. Barnardo's Homes. They're a charity.

Some people are marching together and some on their own. Others are running, the smaller ones crawl. But some sit in silence.

I'm a blackstar. I'm a blackstar.

It makes me sad when I see artists who come alive when they go onstage, because, gee, I really come alive when I'm home.

There, in the chords and melodies, is everything I want to say. The words just jolly it along. It's always been my way of expressing what for me is inexpressible by any other means.

My work is really the accumulation of these different moods that I've had throughout my life and where they've taken me. I start looking back, and I think, I've actually created a life out of all this, out of these changes of mood. They've pushed me through all these years, and I seem to have a semblance of a life, and if I look very carefully, I can see some thematic design to it. There's some continuity.