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.

Everything becomes closer once you realize that the world is only as far away as a nap and a meal.

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.

You just never set roots; you take pleasure in simple conversations, because you know you're not going to have much more than that. It's very isolating, and that can be a good thing.

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.

Instead of just looking back, whiplash-style, I can assume there's something else coming. Time just folds over itself, like origami.

I just went to Europe, spent a year traveling, and then I came home with a finished album and said, "Hey everyone I'm back!" I gave everyone their lighters from Luxembourg, gave them the postcards from Italy and Rome, then said, "Hey look, I made a record, too" and played it for them. The general reaction was shock, because it was so different from what they've known me to do.