Standing knee deep in a river and dying of thirst.

Love travels the miles upon the wings of Angels.

You know, your speaking voice comes back, but your singing voice you use in a different way.

And in fact, I think the more we start to worship perfection the more soul leaks out of art.

Or if I have my head in the results, I can't work with what I have, because I'm trying to force something to happen. And with singing, any time you force it, you tighten up. If you tighten up, you're screwed, nothing will work.

I can't even say I've begun yet, but I'm trying on the idea that there is a book in my future.

Tonight I feel like all of creation is asking us to dance.