“It ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive.”

The hungry and the haunted explode in a rock’n’roll band.

Show a little faith, there’s magic in the night.

Outside the street’s on fire in a real death waltz between what’s flesh and what’s fantasy.

Adult life is dealing with an enormous amount of questions that don’t have answers. So I let the mystery settle into my music. I don’t deny anything, I don’t advocate anything, I just live with it.

God have mercy on the man who doubts what he’s sure of.

You’ve got to learn to live with what you can’t rise above.

The future is now. Roll up your sleeves and let your passion flow. The country we carry in our hearts is waiting.

Two hearts are better than one.

I like narrative storytelling as being part of a tradition, a folk tradition.

If they had told me I was the janitor and would have to mop up and clean the toilets after the show in order to play, I probably would have done it.

There have been a lotta tough guys. There have been pretenders. And there have been contenders. But there is only one king.

You can’t shut off the risk and the pain without losing the love that remains.

Roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair. The night’s busted open. These two lanes will take us anywhere.

It was like Elvis came along and whispered some dream in everybody’s ear.

Everybody’s got a hungry heart.

The best music is essentially there to provide you something to face the world with.

The only thing I asked for now was to be alive tomorrow morning and to survive another day. That was all that mattered.

I am he that buries his friends alive and drowns them and draws them alive again from the water. I came from the end of a bag, but no bag went over me.

Kindness is really at the core of what it means to be and feel alive.

I will choosing to die rather than to remain alive without freedom and beg, as an alternative to death, a vastly inferior life.

I commit to a lifetime of unlearning the poison of white supremacy that is still alive and continues to cause suffering.

The only possible metaphor one may conceive of for the life of the mind is the sensation of being alive. Without the breath of life, the human body is a corpse; without thinking, the human mind is dead.

Men, the enemy troops you can see are all that stands between us and the place we have for so long been determined to reach. We must find a way to eat them alive!

We’re all going to die, but does that mean we have to be buried alive?