I dream of songs. I dream they fall down through the centuries, from my distant ancestors, and come to me. I dream of lullabies and sea shanties and keening cries and rhythms and stories and backbeats.

I do not believe in terrorism, violence, destruction, murder, pre-emption, or War.

It's a little dangerous for me to get outside myself and think about how I want people to see me.

Sometimes the fragment of a conversation, the color of the sky, the image in a dream, has everything to do with where the song begins.

When my dad died a lot of songs came, and they're still coming.

Work ... is redemption.

While visiting places in the South with my heart really open, I realized how important people in certain geographical spots were to me, what they symbolize, how I'm still connected to them and how much they are a part of my ancestry, both musical and real.