There's always room for improvement. I'm always focused on the results, and those are the precise things that I don't really experience as a part of the performance.

The things that keep me awake at night are things like textures and instrumentation and plotting out what things are going to do and what the sounds are that I'm trying to capture.

I dont think I threw myself into music because I had the best intentions; it was because I was really angry.

I always wanted to get into rock music so I could cover up my real personality, change my voice, and create a false self to hide behind.

I love everybody. You have to embrace all facets of humanity; love and accept everyone as being part of yourself.

I get to live down my reputation for being cantankerous if I slowly evolve towards being a really good live show.

I'm not dissatisfied, just not satisfied in an ultimate sense.

I never see songs as permanent. I'm always in a state of revising everything.

My goal is to make something special and pure, and that keeps me going, keeps me busy on the path of sobriety.

I procrastinate, and I push writing to the last available moment, because I don't like to settle on anything. I guess you can call it indecision or you can call it holding out for inspiration.

I don't work under the illusion that I'm the next whatever. Every time a record comes out, if it gets a good review, I'm like, "Well, one more year, guys. We bought ourselves another year".

News flash, Bozo. Don't ever tell a girl to relax. It only makes us madder.

Negativity is often looked upon [in the USA] as a kind of thought crime. Not since the advent of socialist realism has the world witnessed such pathological upbeatness.

There are no whole truths. All truths are half-truths. It is trying to treat them as whole truths that plays the devil.

Try to be like the turtle - at ease in your own shell.

I don't drink now, I'm too busy. It sucks.

My unbeaten record and the 10 British Open wins have not been equalled.

There is a logic of colors, and it is with this alone, and not with the logic of the brain, that the painter should conform.

That's the name of the game ... pleasing the customer. If we ever lose sight of that fact, we've lost the ball game.

I doubt evolution is real.

Sunlight fell upon the wall; the wall received a borrowed splendor. Why set your heart on a piece of earth, O simple one? Seek out the source which shines forever.