“most of the rest of it is about image or the beat or the sound, or else it’s a tribal thing.”

Louis Armstrong playing trumpet on the Judgment Day.

You reach out your hand, but you’re all alone, in those time passages.

Jimi Hendrix played loud and free, Sergeant Pepper was real to me.

Country & western, rap, heavy metal, with historical folk rock off in some kind of cult.

So you packed your world up inside a canvas sack, set off down the highway with your rings and Kerouac.

And peer down the highway from here to eternity and reach out for love on the run.

The literati in their cellarsPerform semantic tarantellas.I wish I did it half as well as them.

I know there’s a big bad world out there, but I rarely come across it.

You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre, contemplating a crime. She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running like a watercolor in the rain.

Looking so cool, his greed is hard to conceal, he’s fresh out of law school.

She doesn’t give you time for questions as she locks up your arms in hers. And you follow till your sense of direction completely disappears.

Whoever you pretend to be, you must face yourself eventually.

Nothing that’s forced can ever be right, if it doesn’t come naturally, leave it.

Look to the past and remember no empire rises that sooner or later won’t fall.

And all the songs I ever sung each one of them untied me And all the girls I ever loved have left themselves inside me.

She comes out of the sun in a silk dress, running like a water color in the rain.

What we’re thinking about is a peaceful planet. We’re not thinking about anything else.

To get really high is to forget yourself. And to forget yourself is to see everything else. And to see everything else is to become an understanding molecule in evolution, a conscious tool of the universe.

I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not.

I understand aggressiveness in only one way: being prepared to hurt yourself, not someone else.

I’ve had enough of worrying about everybody else. Now I’m taking care of me.

I think that the revolution in music is over, and what’s left is a mop-up action. It’s a matter of the news getting out to everybody else.

A man can fail many times, but he isn’t a failure until he begins to blame somebody else.

Music is a universal language insofar as you don’t need to know anything else about a musician that you are playing with other than that they can play music.