At the point where I'm trying to force something and it's not happening, and I'm getting frustrated with, say, writing a poem, I can go and pick up the brushes and start painting. At the point where the painting seems to not be going anywhere, I go and pick up the guitar.

I liked playing in small clubs. I really liked holding the attention of thirty or forty people. I never liked the roar of the big crowd.

You could write a song about some kind of emotional problem you are having, but it would not be a good song, in my eyes, until it went through a period of sensitivity to a moment of clarity. Without that moment of clarity to contribute to the song, it's just complaining.

It's life's illusions that I recall, I really don't know life at all

I'm not a pitiable creature. It's just that I suffer very eloquently.

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

I love you when I forget about me.