I saw a Dead Head sticker on a Cadillac. A little voice inside my head said, don't look back, you can never look back.

In the old days, words like sin and Satan had a moral certitude. Today, they're replaced with self-help jargon, words like dysfunction and antisocial behavior, discouraging any responsibility for one's actions.

I'm always jotting things down on pieces of paper. I've got pieces of paper all over my house.

I have a bad back partially from playing the drums and singing. I used to have to hold my body in such a position that my spine got out of alignment.

We're being treated to the wisdom of some puffed up, little fart. Doing exactly what I used to do, pretensions to anarchy and art.

Sharper than a serpents tongue, tighter than a bongo drum, quicker than a one night stand, slicker than a mambo band.

It's an inside job to learn about forgiving, it's an inside job to hang on to the joy of living.