It's almost embarrassing how well-behaved I was, which is probably why I do things like spit water on myself onstage as an adult.

I'm not a quitter. I believe in following things through.

Bands that I've loved over the years are the ones that have a certain myth around them.

Working pretty much nonstop as an artist, the hardest thing is to know what to do with yourself when you have some time off. You struggle with yourself to take a vacation.

I try to sing whatever the music makes me feel. And we play so much music from the other records at shows that I hope no one will miss the old style too much.

Sophomore records are historically really difficult.

I feel like there's a hunger in the culture now for the live experience maybe as a counterpoint to the more sort of synthetic lives that we've been living.

Yeah, I can't separate the art from the music and the music from the art. I think that stems from going to school for film first, and kind of stumbling onto music as my career.

For me, California is all about rest, relaxation, space.

It's insane how quickly everything's changed. I always feel like I'm running hard to catch up.

My onstage persona really is a persona, you know, and really the moment I step onstage, it kind of kicks into gear.

Being good in business is the most fascinating kind of art

The value of myth is that it takes all the things you know and restores to them the rich significance which has been hidden by the veil of familiarity.

A common sense interpretation of the facts suggests that a superintellect has monkeyed with physics.

You must make up your mind to the prospect of sustaining a certain measure of pain and trouble in you'r passage through life.

Hindu Dharma is like a boundless ocean teeming with priceless gems. The deeper you dive the more treasures you find.

The one real goal of education is to leave a person asking questions.

It is pointless trying to know where the way leads. Think only about your first step, the rest will come.

The quiet, singing voice of the rose. The song that promised all might be well, all might be well, that all manner of things might be well.

Don't compliment me in the middle of an argument. It won't make me stammer or blush, and it just makes you look desperate.

Someday she might replace whatever of her had gone away by some prosthetic device, a dress of a certain color, a phrase in a letter, another lover.