Other arms reach out to me, Other eyes smile tenderly, Still in peaceful dreams I see, The road leads back to you.

I don't think any of us really knows why we're here. But I think we're supposed to believe we're here for a purpose.

I cant retire from music any more than I can retire from my liver. Youd have to remove the music from me surgically—like you were taking out my appendix.

Many times during auditions, I was told that I couldn't carry a note with a bucket, and that I sure couldn't play the piano.

I had to pawn my clothes just to pay my rent.

Music to me is like breathing. I don't get tired of breathing, I don't get tired of music.

Drunken talk isn’t meant to be printed in the paper.