There's not a lot of precedent for weird, bald musicians in the Lower East Side making records in their bedrooms and going on to sell a lot of copies of the record. Especially if you look at the pop climate.

An artist in 2014 who is thinking about album sales is either sadly deluded or has to make so many commercial compromises that it sort of takes the joy out of making music.

God took his chosen people and we are what's left. He looked at what's left and thought: I could kill you all, but let's see what happens. A little social experiment.

I love going on tour and playing music for people.

There's no wrong way to meditate. And meditation should never be a difficult practice that leads to self criticism.

One can only snort so many ants and have so much sex before one starts to long for the comfort and companionship of a good book.

Moby lives the simplest of any person I think I know.