My body is damaged from music in two ways. I have a red irritation in my stomach. It's psychosomatic, caused by all the anger and the screaming. I have scoliosis, where the curvature of your spine is bent, and the weight of my guitar has made it worse. I'm always in pain, and that adds to the anger in our music.

I like the comfort in knowing that women are the only future in rock and roll.

Why in the hell do journalists insist on coming up with a second rate Freudian evaluation on my lyrics when 90% of the time they've transcribed the lyrics incorrectly?

I like to have strong opinions with nothing to back them up with besides my primal sincerity. I like sincerity. I lack sincerity.

I’m worse at what I do best.

You know what I hate about rock? I hate tie-dyed tee shirts. I wouldn't wear a tie-dyed tee shirt unless it was dyed with the urine of Phil Collins and the blood of Jerry Garcia.

Vadalism: beautiful as a rock in a cop's face.