I used to be monastic, almost. Now I'm like a Tibetan that has discovered hamburgers and television. I'm catching up on Americana.

Van Gogh was impulsive.

Fly silly sea bird, no dreams can possess you, no voices can blame you for sun on your wings.

I wish I had a river I could skate away on?

The songwriting was almost like something I did while I was waiting for my daughter to come back.

Everybody's saying hell's the hippest way to go. Well, I don't think so, but I'm gonna take a look around it though.

I try not to steal from myself, but the modalities create similarities.