You may not know it, but at the far end of despair, there is a white clearing where one is almost happy.

Only you and I can help the sun rise each coming morning. If we don't, it may drench itself out in sorrow.

Mostly what I listen to when I turn on my little iPod is opera.

As we know, forgiveness of oneself is the hardest of all the forgivenesses.

The foundation of my beliefs is the same as it was when I was 10. Non-violence.

It [my vocal] didn't sound like what I wanted to hear; the vibrato isn't what I liked anymore. So I got myself to an ear, nose and throat guy who does a lot of work with singers, and I was hoping there was a big wart on my vocal cords or something and they could scrape it off and I could have the voice I wanted. But he said, "No, for 71, that's your voice."

If it came back I would be thrilled. I would be delighted to write more songs. I need them now because I want to make an album and I have to depend on other people's music, which I've done for years. But still, it'd be really nice to be able to sprinkle it with my own.