“Time is just memory Mixed in with Desire.”

Slept all night in the cedar grove, I was born to ramble, born to rove, some men are searchin’ for the holy grail, but there ain’t nothin’ sweeter than ridin’ the rails.

Living with kids is like living with a bunch of drunks. You know you really have to be on your toes all the time. Things are falling over and breaking and spilling. If you live on the second story, you really have to keep the windows shut all the time.

The piano has been drinking, not me.

I made a wish on a sliver of moonlight A sly grin and a bowl full of stars.

The folks who know the truth aren’t talking. The ones who don’t have a clue, you can’t shut them up!

It’s very hard to stop doing things you’re used to doing. You almost have to dismantle yourself and scatter it all around and then put a blindfold on and put it back together so that you avoid old habits.

I’m the type of guy who’d sell you a rat’s asshole for a wedding ring.

Come down off the cross, we could use the wood.

The average person spends two weeks over their lifetime waiting for the traffic light to change.

Children make up the best songs, anyway. Better than grown-ups. Kids are always working on songs and throwing them away, like little origami things or paper airplanes. They don’t care if they lose it; they’ll just make another one.

I’ve been riding on the crest of a slump lately.

Never have your wallet with you onstage. It’s bad luck. You shouldn’t play the piano with money in your pocket. Play like you need the money.

The earth is not my home, I’m just passing by.

Champagne for my real friends and real pain for my sham friends.

Never trust a man in a blue trench coat, never drive a car when you’re dead.

Got a head full of lightning, a hat full of rain.