The days will always be brighter because he existed. The nights will always be darker because he's gone.

I didn’t write that song to try and win you over, or to steal you away from him. I wrote it because I knew I never could.

Forget the noose. Forget the Iron Maiden. Forget the electric chair or the guillotine. The mind was mankind's most painful torture chamber, the blessed liberty to cogitate offering either doom or salvation, depending on one's disposition.

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.

Don't swear off all the fruits just because you ate one bad apple.

Maybe I’m weak for music men. Maybe I’m weak, period. But I couldn’t deny I was charmed by his arrogant, fool-ish guise.

I try to find meaning anywhere I can. It's the only way I know how to validate my existence.