You know, when I'm playing, I think of myself in front of the Wailing Wall with a saxophone in my hands, and I'm davening, I'm really telling it to the Wall.

The saxophone is actually a translation of the human voice, in my conception. All you can do is play melody. No matter how complicated it gets, it's still a melody.

The value of jazz still has to be clarified. People involve themselves with its superficialities without digging for its soul.

My dark sound could be heard across a room clearer than somebody with a reedy sound. It had more projection. My sound always seemed to fill a room.

I learn something new every day - to edit, to take out all the extraneous matter and stress form, logic, and content. I try to play beautiful music.

I practiced saxophone eight hours a day for the first two years I played.

I've done some dastardly things but what can I do except make amends and apologize?