I'd written a lot of songs with hummingbirds in them. None of them ever came to anything, but I did write a few lines last month. It went like this: 'Listen to the hummingbird whose wings you cannot see. Listen to the hummingbird, don't listen to me'.

Except for a couple of hours in the morning which I passed in the company of a sage I stayed in bed without food only a few mouthfuls of water “you are a fine looking old man” I said to myself in the mirror “and what is more you have the correct attitude You don’t care if it ends or if it goes on And as for the women and the music there will be plenty of that in Paradise” Then I went to the Mosque of Memory to express my gratitude

The Maestro says it's Mozart but it sounds like bubble gum when you're waiting for the miracle to come.

I felt like if any two people had any kind of sexual affinity for each other they had to sleep with each other immediately, otherwise it was a terrible betrayal and waste...Fortunately, I'm relieved of those obsessions now. It's really wonderful. It's really wonderful not feeling you have to sleep with everybody.

A heavy burden lifted from my soul, I heard that love was out of my control.

Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.

Certainly within any decadent period, you would probably find the purest expressions of conviction, and I do not see that in many of the people I know.