Clay Cook is a first class musician. Tender tormented genius here in 'North Star'. I will kill him if he leaves my band and he knows it. Great record.

I knew that the right person for Crossroads would come along if we were just patient and made sure that we didn't try to force anything.

Talent alone gets you nowhere. You really have to have the grit, and you gotta have a love for people.

Other people pull off amazing festivals and events and things like that. I think ours is a little bit different, and that's what makes us distinct.

You have a feeling when you're recording, like, 'This is gonna translate really well, ' and when you see it live, and it kind of proves that, that's an amazing feeling.

You can tell all our songs come from us and from our artists, the people we write with and travel with.

I always thought it was sad that you couldn't get anything really good to eat at concerts, so we sit down with our fans before every show and eat a gourmet meal that we made for them.

It does make me sad that there's a lot of great songs out there, and they're not going to see the light of day because they're competing with these tailgate songs.

A nation aimlessly drifting away from God is a nation for which prayer is a rudder and praise is a sail. And it is the man or woman on their knees that builds the former and gives wind to the latter.

The "I love you"s are exchanged excessively under our roof. Cancer teaches you how important and critical that is.

Adaptability to change is itself a hallmark of successful education.

It is not hard work that is dreary it is superficial work

[T]he foundation of a great Empire is laid, and I please myself with a persuasion, that Providence will not leave its work imperfect.

My guitar playing is a synthesis of traditional American acoustic style and Urban Pop and RB.

I welcome him like I welcome cold sores. He's from England, he's angry and he's got Mad Power Disease.

My man slangs rocks like up the block, 143RD and Amsterdam by the smoke shop

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward winter reckoning yields; A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

There isn't a difference between how I feel in the world and how I feel as a musician, or someone who writes. They are one in the same. It's just a different presentation.