“There is music wherever there is rhythm, as there is life wherever there beats a pulse.”

Lesser artists borrow, great artists steal.

Composers combine notes, that’s all.

Music’s exclusive function is to structure the flow of time and keep order in it.

Mediocrity borrows, genius steals.

The profound meaning of music’s essential aim, is to produce a communion, a union of man with his fellow man with the Supreme Being.

I never understood the need for a “live” audience. My music, because of its extreme quietude, would be happiest with a dead one.

What gives the artist real prestige is his imitators.

We have a duty towards music, namely, to invent it.

Music is, by its very nature, essentially powerless to express anything at all. Music expresses itself.

Music is given to us specifically to make order of things, to move from an anarchic, individualistic state to a regulated, perfectly concious one, which alone insures vitality and durability.

Harpists spend 90 percent of their lives tuning their harps and 10 percent playing out of tune.

I know that the twelve notes in each octave and the variety of rhythm offer me opportunities that all of human genius will never exhaust.

I am an inventor of music.

The one true comment on a piece of music is another piece of music.

The further one separates himself from the precepts of the Christian Church, the further one distances himself from the truth. Only God can create. I make music from music.

The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees one.

The way I work uses a very on-the-spot flow, and I write the lyrics and the music when I feel them coming.

She won’t be that song you dance to, She’s that lyric you can’t get out of your head.

I’ve never heard anyone sing my lyrics with me while I perform so I think every song is going to be special because of that.

It’s starts with a story, then the music, Melody and lyrics last.

Celebration went after music. And music wanted to date pain. But pain fell in love with lyrics.

I’m a lyric man – I’m always looking for meaningful songs.

I spoke to myself in lyrics and sugar coated words. A melody of lies and symphonies to soften the blow of how i really felt. I licked at the tender taste and fell into a cacophony within my skin. Would this ever end? This denial of feelings?

It covers me like the embrace of the sky. Like a closed one bidding goodbye. Like those smeared memories and lyrics of a melancholy song, Home, Home is what I long for.