I've never been one that thinks that the function of an instrument is to approach the purity of voice or the structure of a beautifully sung line.

Improvisation is a compositional method.

I think the voice does that perfectly adequately without being imitated by other instruments.

My roots are in my record player.

You know, the whole philosophy of ad hoc combinations has its strengths and its weaknesses.

In a certain sense, aspects of my solo playing were developed in order to test the theory about how long particular elements could be, as parts of so-called free improvisations.

Those early steps are very important in understanding the evolution. But in themselves, maybe now you need the later records to understand the significance of the earlier records!

We all listened to a lot of recorded music, especially American jazz, modern jazz, and that's where our studies were and our inspiration came from.

To speak about notation as the only way that you can guarantee structure of course is already very suspect.

There are many of these apparent philosophical paradoxes or contradictions which don't concern me anymore.

I think the solo playing, the decision to start playing solo, came out of having discovered what lay behind the doors that that technique opened for me.

Rule number one: Why is it that the one time a cute guy talks to you, you have a friend who’s in crisis?

What is the point of being on this Earth if you are going to be like everyone else?

Traveling, she realized, was like a slow dismemberment of the body. It plucked the heart out of her and split it into pieces, leaving a bit behind wherever she went, never to be whole again.

Never let those who are very accustomed to playing small, talk you out of the habit of dreaming big.

The orchestral or symphonic music never interested me.

Teenagers these days are out of control. They eat like pigs, they are disrespectful of adults, they interrupt and contradict their parents, and they terrorize their teachers.

I love a massage. I'd go every day if I could.

Sip the shame so you won't have to guzzle the regret.

The calendar has a magic that makes us imagine a memory can be resurrected and revived, but nothing returns.

The most improbable tales can be made believable, if your reader, through his sense, feels certain that he stands at the middle of events.