I know more than I knew before I didn't rest I didn't stop Did we fight or did we talk.

When I stopped touring, it was like trying to stop a bullet train or a giant lead ball falling from a 100 stories up - it's momentum and it doesn't just stop. I drew a line in the calendar and made it a brick wall and just stopped dead. There was no other way. It would've taken another 100 years to slow down slowly. 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.

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

I've always been a bit wary of keyboards because there's an invisibility to it - you're not really hitting anything.

I think that's more a reflection of the fact I've never been a student of any particular school of writing, or even listening.

If you calculate every single thing you could possibly need in your life, you would need no more than 200 people to keep all that afloat: a doctor, food, wine, cheese-eating friends, the person who makes paper, the shoemaker.

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