I have my ship, and all her flags are a-flying. She is all that I have left, and music is her name.

It's getting to the point where I am no fun anymore, I am sorry. / Sometimes it hurts so badly I must cry out loud, ' I am lonely.' / I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are, you make it hard.

But it's as big as the promise, the promise of a coming day.

Fear is the lock and laughter the key to your heart.

I remember that first week at the Whisky and the gigs we (The Buffalo Springfield) did with the Byrds, We could really smoke ! That band never got on record as bad, and as hard as we were. Live we sounded like the Rolling Stones.

The only albatross is the hurt you divine from what people say about your art

After about a year or so, I was in L.A.; I'd decided to try to get a band together out there