Rock isn't art, it's the way ordinary people talk.

The work of the Lord is done by ordinary people who work in an extraordinary way.

He hangs on now, pressing his hand lightly against the wall, below the window, waiting for the familiar arrow of pain. Only there is none. An oddly pleasant swell of memory, a wave of warmth flooding over him, sliding back, slowly. It is a first

There's another way of making music, by touching the lives and feelings of ordinary people.

Literature is the art of discovering something extraordinary about ordinary people, and saying with ordinary words something extraordinary.

Depending on the reality one must face, one may prefer to opt for illusion.