The easiest kind of relationship for me is with ten thousand people. The hardest is with one.

And my voice now is a struggle, it's a daily struggle to keep it up. Gravity has begun to fight the vocal cords the way it does with everybody. So I have a vocal therapist, and we record the sessions and I use them on tour every day.

My dread is for my show to be a nostalgia act. So the key to it is how do we keep it fresh?

I've been obsessed with stopping people from blowing each other's brains out since I was ten.

I was writing "Diamonds and Rust' and it had nothing to do with what it turned out to be. I don't remember what it is, but I think I was writing a song. It was literally interrupted by a phone call, and it just took another curve and it came out to be what it was.

There's very little I can sing now. When I asked my first voice teacher, who was the best one, "When will I know when to stop singing?" he said, "Your voice will tell you." And it is very, very difficult to sing now.

I have hope in people, in individuals. Because you don't know what's going to rise from the ruins.