I paint my joy and I sing my sorrow.

The only thing I have to give to make you smile, to win you with, are all the mornings still to live.

That's one thing that's always, like, been a difference between, like, the performing arts, and being a painter, you know. A painter does a painting, and he paints it, and that's it, you know. He has the joy of creating it, it hangs on a wall, and somebody buys it, and maybe somebody buys it again, or maybe nobody buys it and it sits up in a loft somewhere until he dies. But he never, you know, nobody ever, nobody ever said to Van Gogh, 'Paint a Starry Night again, man!' You know? He painted it and that was it.

I'm drinking champagne, got the head phones up high, can't numb you out.

In a pure anonymous encounter you find a world alive and full of character. In New York, the street adventures are incredible. There are a thousand stories in a single block. You see the stories in people's faces. You hear the songs immediately. Here, in Los Angeles, there are fewer characters because they are all inside automobiles.

Rationally I have no hope, irrationally I believe in miracles.

Lazy reviewers look up other people's reviews and they write the same thing, so you get people writing crap based on crap.