You never know what you're going to share. I can play, I know what is written - the marks, the things the composer tells me to do - and I do it, but it will still sound different each day.

There are no musically untalented people.

The most unique thing about music making is sharing.

If an artist tells you "this is an oak tree," then it better be an oak tree. It's how you proclaim things; if you say "the silence is the music," then it's the music.

Musical talent is maybe something, but there are no unmusical people. You're moved by music. It's total rubbish to say, "Oh, I'm unmusical." It doesn't exist; it's ridiculous.

I'm not good at texting because I'm an older generation, old school. And nobody ever listens to the answering machine anymore. It's terrible.

People can text with two hands and are so fast and I am not... I just have that one person I want to talk to.

I'm much better at saying something on the answering machine than texting.

I have one guy that I really have to talk to once a day, and if I don't talk to him once a day, I really feel like something is not completed. This is, like, an attraction story.

I think after music is performance because it is also an immaterial form of art, and then there's everything else.

I always talk about the hierarchy of art, and I always put music on the top of everything, because it's so immaterial.

I write to be a part of something - a world made up of words and ideas, which are sometimes painfully criticized, gratefully loved and can never be destroyed.

Dreams are stories made by and for the dreamer, and each dreamer has his own folds to open and knots to untie.

Angels come in many forms, but they always bring the same message--wisdom.

I've learned over the years that freedom is just the other side of discipline.

I try to be a good human being and keep up with what's going on in the world by reading and staying in touch with the current events.

The town is an advertisement for itself; none of its charms are left to the visitor's imagination.

Luck, if there is such a thing, is either going to favor everyone equally or going to exhibit a preference for the prepared.

Wrath clapped his brother on the shoulder. On the whole, though, the SOB was a total keeper. “Forgiven, forgotten.” “Feel free to hammer me anytime.” “Believe me, I do.

It's all kinds of these profound things crashing on you when your child arrives into the world. It's like you've met your reason to live.

She asks if I left a girlfriend behind when we moved. I say no, and she smiles, which just about ruins me.