My fear is that I go up to the girl of my dreams and say 'I'm sorry, but I've got to say hello to you,' and she slides the stool back and gets up and walks away, saying, 'Not for me, Bub. I don't want anything to do with you.'

I'm the only person I know who's got a bunch of money.

I've always said I've got the coolest fans, and I brag about you like grandchildren when I talk to other artists.

I remember playing the guitar through the amplifier facing out the window of my house onto the street in the summer time - that was social media in 1992.

I went to my library, right? And I started to research the Bill of Rights and I did not technically find anything that said all Americans shall eat shrimp with whoever they like. But, I found some things that are close enough to infer that I am within my legal rights to enjoy seafood with whomever I choose.

I feel strikingly domestic. We're in our own world with two busses and trucks.

In a time when everything can be next day and ordered and put on credit and paid for, music to me is promise, all promise, very little realization. It's the promise of walking into a room with a guitar and not being sure you will leave with an idea that will take, not being sure it won't slip away from you.