All along this path I tread, my heart betrays my weary head, with nothing but my love to save, from the cradle to the grave.

They found our hero in the gutter with a diamond ring and a gun.

I feel a real need to observe a level of propriety in what I'm handing out. Instead of me just venting or spilling my guts, I've got to consider how it's going to affect people. How it's going to affect me, as well. Because it's like a cycle.

Every time you pick up your guitar to play, play as if it's the last time.

My identity shifted when I got into recovery. That's who I am now, and it actually gives me greater pleasure to have that identity than to be a musician or anything else, because it keeps me in a manageable size. When I'm down on the ground with my disease-which I'm happy to have-it gets me in tune. It gives me a spiritual anchor. Don't ask me to explain.

And if I don't be there by morning, she'll know that I must've spent the night in jail.

And I don't like having my picture taken. I'm almost like an old African in that sense. I think it steals a bit of the soul.