All music comes from God.

The fire and excitement may be gone now that we don't go out there and sing them anymore, but the ring of fire still burns around you and I, keeping our love hotter than a pepper sprout.

Come on boys, you must listen unto me, lay off the whiskey and let that cocaine be.

A rose looks grey at midnight, but the flame is just asleep. And steel is strong because it knows the hammer and white heat.

I love to go to the studio and stay there 10 or 12 hours a day. I love it. What is it? I don't know. It's life.

I love songs about horses, railroads, land, Judgment Day, family, hard times, whiskey, courtship, marriage, adultery, separation, murder, war, prison, rambling, damnation, home, salvation, death, pride, humor, piety, rebellion, patriotism, larceny, determination, tragedy, rowdiness, heartbreak and love. And Mother. And God.

It's all fleeting. As fame is fleeting, so are all the trappings of fame fleeting. The money, the clothes, the furniture.