Irish Alzheimer’s: you forget everything except the grudges.
I am just glad that I can take the music to the people who want to hear it. I love my audiences. I am deeply indebted to them for giving me the chance to sing my concerts, make records, and do what I love. Whatever people call it, it is great to have a voice!
I always sang when I was little and my father, who was a great influence on me, also had a wonderful voice. He and my mother really encouraged me to sing and play the piano. They were always very supportive.
I don’t think you get to good writing unless you expose yourself and your feelings.
We have to fight off the demons that have been hanging around suicide for centuries.
I had sold my soul for pleasure.
Suffering is the price of being alive, and it is music and singing and art that has helped me live through some of the most difficult things that have happened to me.
Rachael Sage is a marvelous young artist- and I am a fan!! ‘Haunted by You’ has a beauty that shines through her lyrics and melodies – poignant, tender and tough. These are stories from the heart that will lift you up and carry you to places you had never dreamed.
The poetry and the songs that you are suppose to write, I believe are in your heart. You just have to open up your heart and not be afraid to get them out.
When you have a belief, then you make your views known.
I’ve gone through many, many things. I tell you something, that if it doesn’t kill you, you get stronger.
Writing anything is terribly hard but, alas for me, because I am addicted, a heck of a lot of fun. I often am sorry I ever started writing prose, because it is so hard. But I can’t stop.
I am thrilled to have been able to put together this new album. I listened to everything I had recorded in the 24 years with Elektra, and then just took all the ones I am mad about.
The opening line from a journal can be the beginning of a song.
Writing is a voice that calls us from dreams, that peeks out of the corner of our eyes when we think no one is looking, the longing that breaks our hearts even when we think we should be happiest, and to which we cannot give a name.
I had some wonderful dreaming meetings. I can’t tell you specifically what they’ve been in the recent months. In the past they’ve been verbal kinds of messages that he needed to give me. Now they’re more dreams of his presence.
I think that new communications are wonderful and I am delighted to be a part of the Internet generation.
The inner wars, and the outer ones, go on while I pray and struggle; sometimes in the middle of a dark night of the soul I wonder how they became my wars to fight. And then I hear a voice that says, “Why not me?
There are no accidents in memory, for memory has its own reasons and its own logic. What I remember is what happened to me as I best recall it.
There is an old saying that every time you sigh, a drop of blood falls from your heart. It seems I sigh more now than I ever did, and that probably means my heart has lost many tear-shaped drops. I have lived my life, as we all do, between these sighs, between these drops of blood.
In Judaism, it is taught that there are three stages of grief to be endured. First there is weeping, for we all must weep for what we have lost. Second comes silence, for in the silence we understand solace, beauty, and comfort from something greater than ourselves. Third comes singing, for in singing we pour out our hearts and regain our voice.