All Blues Singers Are Great Liars.

It's Much Easier To Wear A Chairman Mao Button And Shake Your Fists In The Air And All That, Then To Actually Read The Communist Manifesto And Things Like That And Actually Become Involved In Politics.

Music, You Know, True Music Not Just Rock 'n' Roll, Chooses You.

Style Is Originality; Fashion Is Fascism. The Two Are Eternally And Unalterably Opposed.

I'll Probably Never Produce A Masterpiece, But So What? I Feel I Have A Sound Aborning, Which Is My Own, And That Sound If Erratic Is Still My Greatest Pride, Because I Would Rather Write Like A Dancer Shaking My Ass To Boogaloo Inside My Head, And Perhaps Reach Only Readers Who Like To Use Books To Shake Their Asses, Than To Be Or Write For The Man Cloistered In A Closet Somewhere Reading Aeschylus While This Stupefying World Careens Crazily Past His Waxy Windows Toward Its Last Raving Sooty Feedback Pirouette.

They Wouldn't Be Heroes If They Were Infallible, In Fact They Wouldn't Be Heroes If They Weren't Miserable Wretched Dogs, The Pariahs Of The Earth, Besides Which The Only Reason To Build Up An Idol Is To Tear It Down Again.