Let there be songs to fill the air.

Every song falls short of the glory of what a song could be. That's why the urge is there to start again and yet again. Often it's the fault of rhyme. I've discovered a hundred times that there just aren't enough rhymes to say what I wanted to say, so I said something else instead. Sometimes it was a better thing, but the thing I meant to say went unsaid. So there's an opening for another song.

Outside major darkness where the circle is complete there's no fear that lovers born will ever fail to meet

Once in awhile you get shown the light, in the strangest of places if you look it right

I feel I've got 10 books in me.

In wickedness of pride is lost the light to understand how little grace is earned and how much given.

Ain't nobody messin' with you but you