We were pretty good mates until the Beatles started to split up and Yoko came into it. It was more like old army buddies splitting up on account of wedding bells.

I took my brains out and stretched them on the rack, now I'm not too sure I'm gonna get them back.

Drugs had shown me little bits here and there-they had rolled across the carpet once or twice, but I had been able to get them out of my mind.

Sadness isn't sadness. It's happiness in a black jacket. Tears are not tears. They're balls of laughter dipped in salt. Death is not death. It's life that's jumped off a tall cliff.

It's not unusual for writers to look backward. Because that's your pool of resources. If you were to write something now, I bet there's a pretty good chance you'd call on your teenage years, your experiences then, stuff you learned then.

Look, people are allowed their own opinions and they don't always coincide with yours. As an artist you just have to keep plugging on.

Ebony and ivory live together in perfect harmony, side by side on my keyboard piano, oh Lord, why don't we?