A lot of people I make music with are really talented and it doesn't stop at one instrument.
They’d already taken her from me once. I didn’t want to lose her again.
It's funny, isn't it? When you are young you just want to be old, and then later you wish you could go back to being a kid.
Someday she will be saved, and the past and all its pain will be rendered as smoothly palatable as the food we spoon to our babies.
And when it started to get dark you pointed to the sky, and told me there was a star for every thing you loved about me.
i think of all the thousands of billions of steps and missteps and chances and coincidences that have brought me here. Brought you here, and it feels like the biggest miracle in the world.
It's like a razor blade edging its way through my organs, shredding me, all I can think is: It will kill me, it will kill me, it will kill me. And I don't care.
Life sucks order from a sea of disorder.
I don't have anything else to prove.
I am pleased enough with the surfaces - in fact they alone seem to me to be of much importance. Such things for example as the grasp of a child's hand in your own, the flavor of an apple, the embrace of a friend or lover, the silk of a girl's thigh, the sunlight on the rock and leaves, the feel of music, the bark of a tree, the abrasion of granite and sand, the plunge of clear water into a pool, the face of the wind - what else is there? What else do we need?
I started to see that my concept of spirituality was totally wrong.