There is no good singing, there is only present and absent.

One thing that I'm kind of disturbed at is actually being on the television, acting, being in something that's mainstream.

Words are beautiful but restricted. They're very masculine, with a compact frame. But voice is over the dark, the place where there's nothing to hang on: it comes from a part of yourself that simply knows, expresses itself, and is.

I'm convinced I got signed because of who I am. And it makes me sad.

I think I would really lay down and die. Music comes from a very primal, twisted place. When a person sings, their body, their mouth, their eyes, their words, their voice says all these unspeakable things that you really can't explain but that mean something anyway. People are completely transformed when they sing; people look like that when they sing or when they make love. But it's a weird thing—at the end of the night I feel strange, because I feel I've told everybody all my secrets.

There's no time for hatred, only questions. Where is love? Where is happiness? What is life? Where is peace?

I want to be ripped apart by music.