I was wearing black clothes almost from the beginning. I feel comfortable in black. I felt like black looked good onstage, that it was attractive, so I started wearing it all the time.

I wore black because I liked it. I still do, and wearing it still means something to me. It's still my symbol of rebellion -- against a stagnant status quo, against our hypocritical houses of God, against people whose minds are closed to others' ideas.

Don't take voice lessons. Do it your way.

There's unconditional love there. You hear that phrase a lot but it's real with me and her [June Carter]. She loves me in spite of everything, in spite of myself. She has saved my life more than once. She's always been there with her love, and it has certainly made me forget the pain for a long time, many times. When it gets dark and everybody's gone home and the lights are turned off, it's just me and her.

It was kind of a prodding myself to play I Walk The Line straight.

I'm thankful for the sea breeze that feels so good right now, and the scent of jasmine when the sun starts going down.

They're powerful, those songs. At times they've been my only way back, the only door out of the dark, bad places the black dog calls home.