The leaves that are green turn to brown. And they wither with the wind. And they crumble in your hand.

I don't really know why an idea comes to me. But all of a sudden, an idea comes and from experience I can intuit what something means when an interesting line pops up. Or I can intuit what an interesting choice might be. And I can try a couple of different choices, and see which one feels right, and then continue the song to see where it goes.

Take two bodies and you twirl them into one, their hearts and their bones, and they won't come undone.

A phenomenon occurs but because you're in the middle of it, you just think it's your life-until it's over. And then you look back and say, What an unusual thing happened to me in the '60s.

Facts can be turned into art if one is artful enough.

I suppose an artist takes the elements of his life and rearranges them and then has them perceived by others as though they were the elements of their lives.

I met my old lover on the street last night, she seemed glad to see me.