You're a musician: You play. That's what you do.

I don't think I'm in any position to call myself a martial artist. I'm a student of the martial arts.

Jealousy endlessly eats through my mind, and jealously endlessly makes me be unkind.

The music is all. People should die for it. People are dying for everything else, so why not the music?

I have no control over the audience. I have no idea what they think. My heart's pure. I can't do anything. I really can't do anything. I don't know what goes on in the crowd.

You've gotta blow the roof off of your heart and let the universe in.

I'd harbored hopes that the intelligence that once inhabited novels or films would ingest rock. I was, perhaps, wrong.