Reading music is like listening to flowers. I don't understand the concept.

It was a process of listening, listening, watching, listening, reading, more and more.

I read The Bell Jar, and then I read her memoir and her diaries, and a third book, an outside opinion. Just the way she made the pillows so neat on the oven door. It just seems to be the opposite of, if you're going to take your life, in a horrible rage it happens.

I have my own language and it's high time I put a little of it out there.

The truth is overrated.

I forever felt that I've fallen right between the crack of way too young for the first generation of classic rock 'n' roll and too old to be brand-new. It's hard.