People ask me how I make music. I tell them I just step into it. It's like stepping into a river and joining the flow. Every moment in the river has its song.

Though a lifetime of listening to the music of the world has passed, even now the tone of the rain on the roof of my home is the sweetest sound I have ever heard.

My favorite pastime is staring out the window. When I go on tour, I can spend hours and hours just staring out the window, thinking about nothing. I love all that.

I really was never any more than what I was -a folk musician who gazed into the gray mist with tear-blinded eyes and made up songs that floated in a luminous haze.

If love played an instrument, I’ll bet it would be the piano. 88 keys, double infinity, and the ability to chop down trees with a sharpened mustache. 


Music is the wine which inspires one to new generative processes and I am Bacchus who presses out this glorious wine for mankind and makes them spiritually drunken

Music took her somewhere, and I used to wonder where. I thought it was dumb, the way she lived for a collection of sounds, for someone else's words and notes.

The musician and the listener.If this is love between two strangers watching each other from afar, that rough, burning moment when you rush in and kiss is the show.

Music... will help dissolve your perplexities and purify your character and sensibilities, and in time of care and sorrow, will keep a fountain of joy alive in you.

La música [...] fue una vía de escape. Todo lo demás estaba cambiando o llegaba a su fin, pero la música era un recurso vasto, infinito.

Bones, sinking like stones, all that we've fought forHomes, places we've grown, all of us are done forAnd we live in a beautiful worldYeah we do, yeah we do

Cause I'll know my weakness, know my voice. And I'll believe in grace and choice. And I know perhaps my heart is farce, But I'll be born without a mask.

What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're OK?I'm falling to pieces

We're just two lost souls Swimming in a fish bowl, Year after year, Running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears. Wish you were here.

Time goes by at the speed of lifeSlower than a slow danceon a hot summer nightFaster than the skin breakson the edge of a knifeAnd we just go on at the speed of life