Go where there is silence and say something.
The morning sun Radiantly Rises above the frosty woods.
A woodpecker's drilling Echoes To the mountain clouds.
Summer skylarks Dart about the heavens Above the deep mountains.
When I go and write with other artists - a lot of the time it's with them - it's like a therapy session almost. I ask them what they're listening to and what they're going through and what their influences are and I try to get inside of their head and step into their shoes for a second.
If you can live with the ups and downs, pick yourself up every morning, then there's nothing more gratifying.
My singing, if you want to call it that is merely another medium of expression. Just an instrument I play. That's how I see my voice.
When men sow the wind it is rational to expect that they will reap the whirlwind.