I don't know where emotion emanates from exactly. I'm full of it, that's all I know.

There's nightingales calling, shooting stars falling, like jewels in the rain.

October's gold is dim — the forests rot, The weary rain falls ceaseless, while the day Is wrapped in damp.

I don't know what I want, but I know what I don't want: I don't want to just repeat myself.

I don't really know why I'm such an emotional person, that's just how I was born. It's a problem. It's not easy to be married to me.

In terms of writing, I think something happens to you, and you think, Oh I'm going to write about that. That's an emotional event. But obviously, if you keep going, and it's something you do with regularity, you've got to find other ways to write.

I find everything a struggle.

And come, blue deeps! magnificently strown With coloured clouds - large, light, and fugitive.

It's amazing, the amount of detail and thought that goes into just an average day. Between the things you see on the news, or on the subway, or whatever, it all gets in there. You sort of shut most of it out, but it all goes in.

I'm absolutely flooded with a raucous energy to get out into the world and tell my story again. I feel like this is spring. After a period of shriveling, out come the leaves.

Love after divorce is all about showing and sharing with my son what is good and right in life!

Everything's stolen. Everything precious - be it a kiss, or be it James Brown - gets misappropriated to the aid of the advertising executives. So, an act of reclamation, somewhere else to be: that's what I want my music to be. Somewhere you can step into. A place.

In the creative act, you kind of reach down and look for things that will, when put together, create an emotional effect.

I guess I'm just a heart-on-sleeve type of human being.