I don't intend to be a performing flea any more. I was the dreamweaver, but although I'll be around I don't intend to be running at 20,000 miles an hour trying to prove myself. I don't want to die at 40.

When you're thirty-five, you can't take as much booze ... and I always got a little violent on drink...So it was kind of self-destructive suicide side of me, which is resolving itself for the better, I believe, because I never enjoyed it.

You know the way people begin to look like their dogs? Well, we're beginning to look like each other.

Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns it calls me on and on across the universe.

I can't play guitar, but I can sure make it howl.

Why don't people believe us when we say we're simply in love?

The magic of the music seems to light the way.