Yet you could feel a vibration in the air, a sense of hastening. It had started with the moon, inaccessible poem that it was. Now men had walked upon it, rubber treads on a pearl of the gods. Perhaps it was an awareness of time passing, the last summer of the decade. Sometimes I just wanted to raise my hands and stop. But stop what? Maybe just growing up.

I'm not really a musician. I'm a performer and I love rock 'n' roll.

First of all, anybody who has lasted 30 and went through the 60's is really a survivor.

A good artist's always got his hand in his zipper.

Committing great work does not necessarily feed you.

Blessedness is within us all.

My sunglasses are like my guitar.