“I refuse to age disgracefully in rock ‘n’ roll.”

It will make a weak man mighty. it will make a mighty man fall. It will fill your heart and hands or leave you with nothing at all. It’s the eyes for the blind and legs for the lame. It is the love for hate and pride for shame. That’s the power of the gospel.

I’m really looking forward to, not more of the same, but a continual growth.

Forever always seems to be around when it begins, but forever never seems to be around when it ends

Now I love to feel that warm southern rain, Just to hear it fall is the sweetest sounding thing. And to see it fall on your simple country dress It’s like heaven to me I must confess.

Sometimes I feel I know strangers Better than I know my friends Why must a beginning Be the means to an end? The stones from my enemies These wounds will mend But I cannot survive The roses from my friends.

My head works in music, so there’s always music there.

You can’t just say ‘I love you,’ you have to live ‘I love you.’

I refuse to make uninspired music.

As a songwriter, I don’t rush. I may sit on lyrics for two years before the music hits.

We’re always moving forward in different places physically and psychologically.

I just want to keep doing what I feel.

The world awakens on the run And will soon be earning With hopes of better days to come It’s a morning yearning.

I grew up listening to spiritual music, Blind Willie Johnson and folk.

You’re living life in real time, man, and we’ ve got a good amount of work to do for each other. Hiding is not an option and you’re going to step out and you’re going to make mistakes.

The spirit is what guides my life, and I’m humbly on my knees in thanks for guidance and direction every day. But God is not something to be preached, it’s something to be lived.

To go through this life and see it through – what it really is – and not be insane or addicted, is a minor miracle for anyone.

The aquilegia sprinkled on the rocks A scarlet rain; the yellow violet Sat in the chariot of its leaves, the phlox Held spikes of purple flame in meadows wet, And all the streams with vernal-scented reed Were fringed, and streaky bellow of miskodeed.

One human life is deeper than the ocean. Strange fishes and sea-monsters and mighty plants live in the rock-bed of our spirits.

What most interests me is human connection, whether it’s on the street, in community, through music, storytelling, and shared experience. People tell me to be a rock cellist, make money, and give up on the activism so I can make more money.

I mean, in rock music terms I’m like a dinosaur.

If it comes out sounding like Dixieland jazz or classical or punk or rock or even slightly metal, that’s because that’s where I’m going to find inspiration.

I write about nerds who go the extra mile and become rock stars.

I would pale in comparison to rock and rollers with my haircut. I would be a lightweight.

Rock and roll is – and should be – a kid’s place.