Writing For Me Is Cutting Out The

I Can Write Anywhere Really. I Have A Hard Time Writing When The Birds Are Tweeting And The Brooks Are Running Outside. I've Tried That Several Times, For Months At A Time, Trying To Write In A Quiet, Wonderful Place Where Birds Are Twittering And Coffee's Brewing. And Nothing Happens. But If I'm In An Old Dump Like My Old Apartment And I Can't Find My Fingernail Clippers And Nothing's Working Except The Old Tea Maker, That's Just Great. You Always Have To Find And Live In A Place That's A Little Uncomfortable When You're A Writer. You Need A Burr In Your Side.

The Good Lord Bird Don't Run In A Flock. He Flies Alone. You Know Why? He's Searching. Looking For The Right Tree. And When He Sees That Tree, That Dead Tree That's Taking All The Nutrition And Good Things From The Forest Floor. He Goes Out And He Gnaws At It, And He Gnaws At It Till The Thing Gets Tired And It Falls Down. And The Dirt From It Raises Other Trees. It Gives Them Good Things To Eat. It Makes 'em Strong. Gives 'em Life. And The Circle Goes 'round.

God Gived You The Seed. But The Watering And Caring Of That Seed Is Up To You.

My Parents Were Nonmaterialistic. They Believed That Money Without Knowledge Was Worthless, That Education Tempered With Religion Was The Way To Climb Out Of Poverty In America, And Over The Years They Were Proven Right.

There Has To Be Some Mystery In Life, Because The Joy Of Being A Writer And The Joy Of Being A Musician Is The Joy Of Discovery. I Don't Want Someone Discovering For Me What I Should Be Discovering On My Own. If A Person Is Discovering For Me, Then They're Living For Me. It's My Responsibility, Indeed It's My Privilege, To Go Out And Discover The World For Myself.