I wrote the song For A Dancer for a friend of mine who died in a fire. He was in the sauna in a house that burned down, so he had no idea anything was going on. It was very sad.

I'm a big fan of British journalists like 'The Independent”s Robert Fisk, but it's hard to find voices like his in the U.S.

I want to know what became of the changes we waited for love to bring/Were they only the fitful dreams of some greater awakening?

Now, guitar was pretty cool. Everybody knew something on the guitar. So I wanted to play guitar, but I told my dad if he wanted me to keep studying something, Id like to study piano.

My forays into trying to date girls my own age from the school I went to were all pretty tortured.

No matter how fast I run, I can't get away from me.

You would think with all the genius and the brilliance of these times, we might find a higher purpose and a better use of mind.