“We were from totally different social backgrounds. This is what is very hard for an American to understand, but we could have been five guys from Mars.”

And we’d drink huge amounts of scotch and coke, which is a ghastly sweet drink… And now people don’t drink nearly as much, for good reason. We’re all a little wiser.

I don’t really remember a whole lot of sex, drugs and rock n’ roll, really.

I didn’t write any music at all, and then, I remember Jon Anderson being very insistent saying that there were two kinds of musicians: the ones who wrote music and the ones who didn’t.

One of the great things about having good players in your band is that you just ask them questions. You can pick up some good information that way.

If I was hearing something I couldn’t do, I would figure out how to do it.

We used to drink an awful lot of alcohol.

I listen to Bill Stewart play the drums and when I have finished doing that, I listen to Bill Stewart.

Entertainment is about telling everybody that everything is alright but music is on the side of the upsetters and that’s where I’m at.

Holding on to some of your uniqueness is the trick instead of surrendering it at the Academy of Contemporary We’re Gonna Make You a Star.

At the end of the whole day of working with people you want some privacy.

You learn so much about music from all the people you surround yourself with – good, bad and indifferent. It’s extremely hard to be specific.

So I have the classic amateur’s technique; I know some very tricky bits and I have large gaping holes.

I warm naturally to the drummer whose ideas and approach are strong, even if he doesn’t quite have the ability to carry them out.

And I like messing around in the engine room of music. Seeing what happens in the rhythm section area.

We can be so focused on the nuts and bolts that we overlook the importance of individuality – the broader picture, if you will.

I practice at home, in between phone calls, and have much to do.

I broke my heart in two So hard I struck. What matter? for I know That out of rock, Out of a desolate source, Love leaps upon its course.

Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk.

It’s hard to remember a time when I wasn’t writing.

Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk.

He was the first, the only love her life, and in a nature like hers such passions take deep root and die-hard.

Harde is his heart that loveth nought In May.

I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free… Why am I so changed? I’m sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills.

Anything that doesn’t take years of your life and drive you to suicide hardly seems worth doing.