I just realized that I never look at a painting and ask, 'Is this painting fictional or non-fictional?' It’s just a painting.

"He Stopped Loving Her Today" a fascinating book about the making of a record. Really, to be honest, it has some of the best George Jones anecdotes I've ever read, like cocaine psychosis causing this personality called "the Duck."

I'm sure we're going to find out one day that the brain is as worthless as the appendix.

Everybody is so sure about everything these days. Just look at your horrible Facebook feed on the most recent tragedy that people are commenting on.

Everybody is so goddamn sure of themselves, it just makes you realize this is the curse of the modern world.

It's weird. People want you to know that they write. They want you to know they're a musician, rather than making music or making stories. It's the strangest thing.

Writing should be like skirts. Long enough to cover what it needs to cover and short enough to maintain interest.