“You belong among the wildflowers You belong in a boat out at sea You belong with your love on your arm You belong somewhere you feel free.”

I love history, doesn’t matter what era, I’m fascinated.

I think to be successful you have to work really hard but you also have to have a little bit of luck.

If you don’t run, you rust.

At twilight time the smog makes a rainbow.

Yeah, the world would swing if I were king. Can I help it if I still dream time to time?

It’s funny how the music industry is enraged about the Internet and the way things are copied without being paid for. But you know why people steal the music? Because they can’t afford the music.

I’ve got a room at the top of the world tonight. I can see everything tonight.

How about a cheer for all those bad girls! And all those boys that play that rock ‘n’ roll! They love it like you love Jesus.

She’s a good girl, crazy about Elvis, loves horses, and her boyfriend, too.

If you listen long enough you can hear my skin grow tough love is painful to the touch must be made of stronger stuff.

We could move catalog, if he’d only die quicker.

If I’d had to work at Taco Bell I’d have still been out at night trying to play music.

If you’re not getting older, you’re dead.

Some days are diamonds, some days are rocks. Some doors are opened, some roads are blocked. Sundowns are golden, then fade away. And if I never do nothing, I’ll get you back someday.

You belong somewhere you feel free.

I’m always having fun. Playing is fun. Music is fun.

Without fear and disease, my life would be like a boat without oars.

A boat may stay in water, but water should not stay in boat. A spiritual aspirant may live in the world, but the world should not live within him.

The breeze of grace is always blowing on you. You have to open the sails and your boat will move forward.

I’m one-hundred-fifty miles off Cape Horn, both autopilots are broken, and my boat is drifting toward one of the nastiest chunks of ocean on the face of the earth.

But none of that kept me from picturing what a tsunami might look like if it did rise up and roar toward my little boat like some watery blue version of the Great Wall of China.

If Wild Eyes reached those islands, she wouldn’t run aground, keel in the sand. She would be smashed into pieces.

Don’t come to me with a flimsy boat and expect my seas to be calm.

I don’t travel by airplane. I mean that because when my wife, my kids and I travel on trains or boats, we meet a lot of people and we talk to them.