There’s the moon asking to stay long enough for the clouds to fly me away.
Music should be like making love. Sometimes you want it soft and tender, another time you want it hard and aggressive.
I want to be ripped apart by music...
Thinking so hard on her soft eyes and memories of the signs that it’s over. It’s over.
There is no good singing, there is only present and absent.
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.
We are born to live, we are born to understand, we are born to carry a cursed pattern and be transformed by pain.
Kiss me out of desire, but not consolation.
I don’t really need to be remembered. I hope the music’s remembered.
The people who raised me musically are my mother, who is a classically trained pianist, and my stepfather.
Music was like my first real toy. I was an only child for a while, and I was alone a lot of the time – and I liked it. I still like being alone.
I sacrificed my anonymity for my father, whereas he sacrificed me for his fame.
Grace is what matters, in anything... That’s a quality I admire quite greatly. It keeps you from reaching for the gun too quickly, keeps you from destroying things too foolishly. It keeps you alive and it keeps you open for more understanding.
Fall in light, grow in light.
Apparently orgasm is the only point where your mind becomes completely empty – you think of nothing for that second. That’s why it’s so compelling – it’s a tiny taste of death. Your mind is void – you have nothing in your head save white light.
I say it’s about time to say that I’ve graduated from doing impressions of things better lived than acted out, OK?
Escape is no longer called for or even especially healthy. Escape from life is death.
Be seriously involved with growing, with your own development, and never fear.
There is no threat to you in the paper, or in the pen, there’s no threat in your creation, they welcome you.
You know how much is inside you and you have ideas of how to get it out into the open. Tap the source and let it flow and don’t waste a drop by taking it for granted.
The beauty of God is in the wind, in the movement of the ocean, it is in the eyes of a woman gazing at her lover, pouring the deep red wine of love from her eyes like two crystal cups. There is a God who dances and who loves and who longs to sing of love... And I mean that God is music; all inclusive, benevolent and life-affirming, unashamed human emotion.