You'll be just fine, " he said. "Listen to your heart and mind together, that's the trick. Not one or the other, both.

Truth is worse than soap in the eyes.

You really are a chameleon, aren't you? Fitting in wherever you go."Aren't we all?" she said...

The kitchen of the Big House was always one of my favorite places. Airy and sunny. No modern cabinets or anything like that. Just a room full of windows, set into wise, worn walls.

The kitchen door, painted red from the day Naomi moved in, and a geranium, also red, outside on the stoop, gave the whole area a feeling of whimsy.

You're a girl on fire. And it seems to me, you been dousing those flames for years. Let yourself burn a little.

There's a great deal of power in pretending.

Pain is like a map, I guess. But I found my shortcut on my "map of the heart." Shortcuts always take longer, don't they?

Too much work, I guess, to figure out each person as a whole instead of parts of this and parts of that.

I'd forgotten so many important things. I'd stolen away my own past. It made me feel like a coward.

I was in my late 20s, in the process of shaping my musical outlook and what I wanted it to be about, when I first encountered Woody Guthrie.

Sincere repentance is continual. Believers repent until their dying day. This dropping well is not intermittent.

Music is just kind of an expression of who I am. It's what I do.

With my hours, I don't hang out with anybody. I work and come home to my Upper West Side apartment.

Love makes me feel vulnerable.

I can't seem to stop singing wherever I am. And what's worse, I can't seem to stop saying things - anything and everything I think and feel.

There are three kinds of brains: One understands of itself, another can be taught to understand, and the third can neither understand to itself or be taught to understand.

Pills n potions.. We're overdosin.. I'm angry but I still love you

Amid so many problems, even grave, may we not lose our hope in the infinite mercy of God.

The more you know about something, the harder it becomes. You become more and more of a perfectionist. I think it's a curse... It's a form of illness!