I find everything a struggle.

That's what music is for me. It's a place to go to.

I guess I'm just a heart-on-sleeve type of human being.

There's nightingales calling, shooting stars falling, like jewels in the rain.

I don't know where emotion emanates from exactly. I'm full of it, that's all I know.

I don't know what I want, but I know what I don't want: I don't want to just repeat myself.

And come, blue deeps! magnificently strown With coloured clouds - large, light, and fugitive.

Love after divorce is all about showing and sharing with my son what is good and right in life!

Night falling on the city Quite something to behold Don't it just look so pretty This disappearing world

October's gold is dim — the forests rot, The weary rain falls ceaseless, while the day Is wrapped in damp.

In the creative act, you kind of reach down and look for things that will, when put together, create an emotional effect.

I don't really know why I'm such an emotional person, that's just how I was born. It's a problem. It's not easy to be married to me.

You can't just be reactive to the things going on in your life. You have to imagine, and you have to plunder other people's work, books, poems, ideas, observations.

I'm absolutely flooded with a raucous energy to get out into the world and tell my story again. I feel like this is spring. After a period of shriveling, out come the leaves.

It's amazing, the amount of detail and thought that goes into just an average day. Between the things you see on the news, or on the subway, or whatever, it all gets in there. You sort of shut most of it out, but it all goes in.

Wonder in everything No matter how great or small... Same thing that's scrawled across the stars Is written under our skin... There's a time to search for understanding Sometimes you just got to sing New horizons, new horizon within

In terms of writing, I think something happens to you, and you think, "Oh I'm going to write about that. That's an emotional event." But obviously, if you keep going, and it's something you do with regularity, you've got to find other ways to write.

Everything's stolen. Everything precious - be it a kiss, or be it James Brown - gets misappropriated to the aid of the advertising executives. So, an act of reclamation, somewhere else to be: that's what I want my music to be. Somewhere you can step into. A place.

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