Thinking So Hard On Her Soft Eyes

I Think I Would Really Lay Down And Die. Music Comes From A Very Primal, Twisted Place. When A Person Sings, Their Body, Their Mouth, Their Eyes, Their Words, Their Voice Says All These Unspeakable Things That You Really Can't Explain But That Mean Something Anyway. People Are Completely Transformed When They Sing; People Look Like That When They Sing Or When They Make Love. But It's A Weird Thing—at The End Of The Night I Feel Strange, Because I Feel I've Told Everybody All My Secrets.

To Do Something That Will Just Fly Away Is Kind Of Special. Every Time Somebody Tell You They Love You, That "i Love You" Flies Away, And You Wait Until The Next One.

I Don't Want My Reputation To Take Me Over, I Just Want To Be Judged On My Songs. I Want People To Come And See Me Because They Want To, Not Because Fashion Dictates It.

There Is No Good Singing, There Is Only Present And Absent.

[what I Want To Communicate] Doesn't Have A Language With Which I Can Communicate It. The Things That I Want To Communicate Are Simply Self-evident, Emotional Things. And The Gifts Of Those Things Are That They Bring Both Intellectual And Emotional Gifts - Understanding. But I Don't Really Have A Major Message That I Want To Bring To The World Through My Music. The Music Can Tell People Everything They Need To Know About Being Human Beings. It's Not My Information, It's Not Mine. I Didn't Make It. I Just Discovered It.