“I’m still searching for an angel with a broken wing. It’s not very easy to find them these days.”

Just because you play bass, doesn’t mean you have no presence.

I really wasn’t needed. Just straightening up riffs, that’s all. Just two guitarists doing it instead of one.

You can’t overthink the music. Mood and intensity can’t be manufactured. The blues isn’t about structure; it’s what you bring to it. The spontaneity of capturing a specific moment is what drives it.

I can communicate far better on a guitar than I can through my mouth.

I may not believe in myself, but I believe in what I’m doing.

I’m very fortunate because I love what I’m doing.

You can’t just find yourself doing something and not happy doing it.

I’ve never regretted anything I’ve ever done.

I always thought the good thing about the guitar was that they didn’t teach it in school.

I will still carry on changing all the time.

You don’t find geniuses in street musicians, but that doesn’t mean to say you can’t be really good.

A lot of people can’t be on their own. They get frightened. Isolation doesn’t bother me at all. It gives me a sense of security.

I always felt if we were going in to do an album, there should already be a lot of structure already made up so we could get on with that and see what else happened.

I know where I’m going musically. I can see my pattern and I’m going much slower than I thought I’d be going.

I don’t like being stuck in one situation, day to day.

Live Aid did feel like one hour’s rehearsal after several years, but to be part of Live Aid was wonderful. It reall was.

Do not give up if you get an opportunity to please someone, they are the angels who can give a grin on someone’s face.

The savior who wants to turn men into angels is as much a hater of human nature as the totalitarian despot who wants to turn them into puppets.

She kissed me just right, like only a lonely angel can.

So when that Angel of the darker Drink, at last shall find you by the river-brink, And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul forth to your Lips to quaff-you shall not shrink.

Make sure to send a lazy man the angel of death.

The Truth has shared so much of Itself with me That I can no longer call myself A man, a woman, an angel, Or even pure Soul.

Nobody knows if Zidane is an angel or demon. He smiles like Saint Teresa and grimaces like a serial killer.

You have actually waltzed with tremendous style, my sweet, O my sweet, crushed angel.