You are the reason. If you want, you are the answer in the end.

One of the great moments of my life was when I could write musician on my passport.

Wretched excess is an unfortunate human trait that turns a perfectly good idea such as Christmas into a frenzy of last-minute shopping.

Sweet music, and your secret heart. Both have the healing grace.

Tattoo. What a loaded word it is, rife with associations to goons, goofs, bikers, tribal warriors, carnival artists, drunken sailors and floozies.

We receive all we venture to give. And one of the things I've learned over the years is that giving is everything, and taking is nothing.

We are all in Christs energy. We are all in the divine plan. We are all on the sacred journey, if you want to put it into some very spiritual words. And I like to sing about it, so thats what I do.

It is just a wonderful, wonderful time to be alive and to be able to be part of the ever-growing spiritual awareness that is happening around the world.

Sweet songs of youth, the wise, the meeting of all wisdom To believe in the good in man.

This state of independence shall be!

We're physically part of the sun. The sun gives us energy, creates our world.

I must create a system, or be enslaved by another man's. I will not reason and compare: my business is to create.

There are infinite ways for your mind to torture it's self.

God never leads us to do anything that is contrary to the Bible.

History was ignorant and had a mean streak, so it tended to repeat.

I had a really tough time for a few years. My show was gone. My phone wasn't ringing. There wasn't one job offer. And at that point, I thought I knew for sure that I wouldn't work in Hollywood again.

Writers used to make such wonderful pictures without all that swearing, all that cursing. And now it seems that you can't say three words without cursing. And I don't think that's right.

A bibliophile has approximately the same relationship to literature as a philatelist to geography.

I saw all the suffering that Kurt Cobain went through. I saw this real vibrant person turn into a real shy, timid, withdrawn person.

We must hide our tears from the One who sends them, from the One who has shed tears Himself and continues to shed them every day because of mans' ingratitude.

No one, evidently, except me has found "No Alarms" poem ironical that an obsessive theme in my writing was - and has continued to be - not being able to write.