Human Beings Are Millions Of Things In

Like All Books That Have That Kind Of Momentum, It Starts From Word Of Mouth.

She Thought I Was...soulful, By Which I Think She Means That I Don't Say Much And I Always Look Vaguely Pissed Off.

Because Music, Like Color, Or A Cloud, Is Neither Intelligent Nor Unintelligent - It Just Is. The Chord, The Simplest Building Block For Even The Tritest, Silliest Chart Song, Is A Beautiful, Perfect, Mysterious Thing, And When An Ill-read, Uneducated, Uncultured, Emotionally Illiterate Boor Puts A Couple Of Them Together, He Has Every Chance Of Creating Something Wonderful And Powerful. All I Ask Of Music Is That Is Sounds Good.

It's Just That None Of Us Had The Wit Or Talent To Make Them Into Songs. We Made Them Into Life, Which Much Messier, And More Time Consuming, And Leaves Nothing For Anybody To Whistle.

When Even The Scrupulously Detached Bbc Is Exhorting Us To Talk To God, You Know Something Is Going On.