I do the same thing every night, but different.

The best thing is to find something you really love to do and enjoy that process for the rest of your life.

I have great samples of my drums and I try to program them pretty much how I want to play them, try and make it feel natural even though it's programmed.

I'm not going to limit myself in ways to compose or how I should record. You just do what you can with what you've got at the moment.

Japan and Europe seem to have a little more cultural education and so the crowds have been a little more big and enthusiastic, and the places I've played seem a little more classy.

Money and fame are very inconvenient and very problematic.

I'm happy doing what I do. That's ok. Some guy could appear tomorrow and do it much better than me, and so be it, but right now I'm just happy to be who I am doing what I do.

You just write one word and that tells you what the next word is going to be.

I just want to make music on the drums.

You just chip away until the puzzle is complete.

I think by the time I finished college I was calling myself a professional because I was, you know. I was making a living playing music.

Our sacrosanct obligation is to tend to our own personal wounds and furiously love the entire world irrespective if the world loves us back.

In a society as broken as ours, "antisocial" behavior is the only behavior worth defending.

I'm "crushable." That was the craziest thing. They called me "crushable" on some website.

Women, as they are like riddles in being unintelligible, so generally resemble them in this, that they please us no longer once we know them.

He seems so.. English sometimes, kind of distant or reserved, but then he'll look at me, and his eyes see right through to my soul.

If Apple ever lowers the iPod's price and develops Windows software for it, watch out: the invasion of the iPod people will surely begin in earnest.

In every high school, there is a clique.

The self is not something ready-made, but something in continuous formation through choice of action.

Elvis is bound to be dead. Look at all the vultures in his vicinity.

O harmless Death! whom still the valiant brave, The wise expect, the sorrowful invite, And all the good embrace, who know the grave A short dark passage to eternal light.