I had made all these rules for myself: I'm not writing social commentary, I'm not writing love songs.

There's a man who's been out sailing In a decade full of dreams And he takes her to a schooner And he treats her like a queen Bearing beads from California With their amber stones and green He has called her from the harbor He has kissed her with his freedom He has heard her off to starboard In the breaking and the breathing Of the water weeds While she was busy being free

Heart and humor and humility, he said will lighten up your heavy load.

A little lawyer on the tube, he said, its so easy now, anyone can sue.

I see the entire world as Eden, and every time you take an inch of it away, you must do so with respect.

I couldn't see passion as a bad thing.

I'm a little young for retirement.