I just happen to comprehend the low standards of the majority of the music-buying public, and I don’t care how condescending that sounds, it’s true. They always go for the shiny gimmicks. Always.

Bottom line, Eliza— you’re my home and my family, and I don’t want to lose you. I could lose everything else, and as long as I still had you and a guitar I know I’d be all right. Do you get what I’m saying?

I need to know that wherever I end up, in the stars or in the gutter, you’re along for the ride.

I've got my girl and my guitar, and for me that's enough.

He was waiting for something from me. Acknowledgement. Validation. Commiseration, perhaps. I couldn’t even look at him because I was afraid of feeling any more than I already did.

It sounds silly, I know. But for me, the power of music rests in its ability to reach inside and touch the places where the deepest cuts lie. Like a benevolent god, a good song will never let you down. And sometimes, when you're trying to find your way, one of those gods actually shows up and gives you directions.

Committing suicide so as not to be murdered is the worst reason I've ever heard of to die.