If I can't feel, if I can't move, if I can't think, and I can't care, then what conceivable point is there in living?
No longer riding on the merry-go-round, I just had to let it go.
Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives
I'd spent five hours that morning trying to write a song that was meaningful and good, and I finally gave up and lay down. Then, "Nowhere Man" came, words and music, the whole damn thing, as I lay down. . . Song writing is about getting the demon out of me. It's like being possessed. You try to go to sleep, but the song won't let you. So you have to get up and make it into something, and then you're allowed sleep.
Whenever in doubt, turn off your mind, relax, and float downstream.
I don't believe in killing whatever the reason!
I don't intend to be a performing flea any more. I was the dreamweaver, but although I'll be around I don't intend to be running at 20,000 miles an hour trying to prove myself. I don't want to die at 40.
My mother-in-law was with me during all four of my births and when she was sitting next to me holding my hand during the cesareans, well, I craved that.
I think Pringles initial intention was to make tennis balls. But on the day that the rubber was supposed to show up, a big truckload of potatoes arrived. But Pringles is a laid back company. They said, "Screw it. Cut 'em up!"
New York has been the best gift, in that the city pushes me to so many next levels.
Neighbours: the strangers who live next door.