I just play, and I'm always trying to write songs.

Folk-rock hasn't changed much over the decades since the Byrds started it.

You don't see a lot of difference between the Gin Blossoms and the Byrds.

There was just no way I could leave this little Martin guitar in my apartment overnight or even in the afternoon, and expect to find it there when I got back.

I wouldn't be interested in just doing a show that's mapped out and choreographed with a set list. That would've been boring so long ago it just wouldn't be any fun.

I've had an advantage; I've had a sort of open public acceptance in New York that doesn't happen to just anyone trying to make the transition you were talking about.

It's often said that life is strange. But compared to what?

I'm not trying to be the new anybody.

I relate to the audiences and they know me. It's pretty real.

And the music, as far as a type of music, it's still pretty viable.

But I'm able to just keep going, and that's the challenge. It's the next song. And then just enjoying the shows and people who come out to the shows. It's pretty organic, really.

Don't be afraid of your own imagination. No matter what you write, there's always someone out there who will appreciate it.

I know how the game is played, and I'm always working on it.

It is thus with most of us; we are what other people say we are. We know ourselves chiefly by hearsay.

You can have all the talent in the world, but if the pumper's not there, it doesn't matter.

Many filmmakers pretend that they never see anything, which has always seemed odd to me.

Fairytales are stories that span every generation and they've been around for a long time.

I'm grateful that I had that uphill battle for 10 years of going onstage and having nobody know who I was, because you have to win them over.

Dracula isn't just another vampire show. It's something entirely different that I personally feel I've never seen on American TV before.

If a young girl is being forced into a brothel she will not talk about her rights. In such a situation the word would sound ludicrously inadequate.

I am not mad; I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself; O, if I could, what grief should I forget!