Funny, 'ow you can 'old a jewel in your 'and, and toss it away, and not even know what you 'ad until it's gone.

Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine.

When you can write music that endures, bravo. Until then, keep quiet and study the work of those who can.

Namaste. It was a Nepalese greeting. It meant: The light within me bows to the light within you.

I play until my fingers are blue and stiff from the cold, and then I keep on playing. Until I'm lost in the music. Until I am the music--notes and chords, the melody and harmony. It hurts, but it's okay because when I'm the music, I'm not me. Not sad. Not afraid. Not desperate. Not guilty.

Only the hopeless love God.

I play until my fingertips are raw. Until I rip a nail and bleed on the strings. Until my hands hurt so bad I forget my heart does.