I don't think that village idea of actually knowing what you're contributing to the whole exists anymore.

All the girls who have photos of them at parties, like, "Woo!" - that's what someone's going to see of their grandma.

There's something about live recordings now that's too hi-fi.

I like being swept up in weather and observing it as something beautiful and giant. It makes you feel so minute. The only thing as big as that are your thoughts about it, which can expand exponentially while your physical self is just trapped. It's a pretty awesome feeling, in the original sense of the word.

There are certain parts of chords that resolve things and tie a bow, and others that keep things open and unanswered.

I would try to pick the guitar up sometimes, like, "Hey, remember me?" It was like reintroducing yourself to someone who's got a grudge.

I had to let myself imagine a calendar with no lines; when every single day is being predetermined six months in advance, there's no more fluidity to time.