And What Can I Tell You, My

And I Had Not Much Of A Voice. I Didn't Play That Great Guitar Either.

You Have To Keep Cracking Yourself Open Or You Become A Parody Of Yourself.

Some Say That No One Ever Leaves Montreal, For That City, Like Canada Itself, Is Designed To Preserve The Past, A Past That Happened Somewhere Else.

Every Heart To Love Will Come, But Like A Refugee

If I Knew Where The Good Songs Came From, I’d Go There More Often. It’s A Mysterious Condition. It’s Much Like The Life Of A Catholic Nun. You’re Married To A Mystery.