In some ways, my gift for music and writing was born out of tragedy, really, and loss.

Some turn to Jesus and some turn to heroin.

You wake up one day and suddenly realize that your youth is behind you, even though you're still young at heart.

I could drink a case of you.

A few drinks later you're not so choosy when the closing lights strip off the shadows on this strange new flesh you've found.

I have lost my credibility as a hit maker because of these side excursions into other branches of music; by not being consistent. Consistency seems to be all-important.

Rolling Stone hates me. They must have an editorial policy to do me in for many years.