“I think cursing is a bunch of malarkey.”

Every now and then I hear voices in my head, but not very clear. I can’t understand what they are saying. It’s a mental illness. I have been diagnosed as a manic depressive.

I have stage fright every single concert I’ve ever done. I have at least four or five minutes of it. It’s absolute living hell.

If there’s not love present, it’s much, much harder to function. When there’s love present, it’s easier to deal with life.

J.S. Bach was easily the greatest musical innovator in the history of the world. He was so advanced for his time. There’s a spiritual depth to his music. You can listen to it and it’s like meditation.

The only reason I’d ever get a sex change operation is to see what it’s like to be right all the time.

There’s nothing greater than a girl…. Well a kid, your daughter, but that’s a girl too.

Humor – it helps to make the vibe better – it loosens up the vibrations.

People are part of my music. A lot of my songs are the result of emotional experiences, sadness, pain, joy, and exultation in nature and sunshine and so on…like ‘California Girls’ which was a hymn to youth.

I still believe that something is right only when it feels right.

I consider myself to be a crusader of love. I try to spread love around the world as best I can because I know I have a handle on love.

You say how you feel, and songs don’t lie. Songs are the most honest form of human expression there is–there’s nothing that lies about a song.

I get off on hearing other people’s voices. I like voices: they’re my favourite things on records.

Love and mercy that’s what you need tonight. Love and mercy to you and your friends tonight.

Some people might think that sex is the highest experience you can have. I tend to think that music is.

I think in terms of emotions. And feelings. So sometimes what I say may not always be clear. But creatively, there’s a lot to be said for that way of thinking.

You know Chuck, Buddy, and Elvis paved the road The roots are deep inside us It’s the rhythm in our soul.

Even when the blood in my veins is the same as them, every cell in my body is against becoming like them. What a curse it is to hate the very thing that birth you.

If you’re working at the factory and you’re cursing every day that you get up, at all costs get out of it. You’ll just make yourself ill.

You’re always cursing, you’re always praying and you’re always making love. It ain’t do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do.

She spends an eternity as shelter for men who curse her when the storm passes.

What a blessing to be hurt yet see the good, what a curse to always understand and never be understood.

We let our blessings get mouldy, and then call them curses.

This is the curse of our age, even the strangest aberrations are no cure for boredom.

Is it a blessing or is it a curse, to feel everything so deeply.