Only a world without love strikes me as instantly and decisively more terrible than one without music.

“I only write music for myself, I don't try and appeal to anyone else.”

Is this the real life Is this just fantasy Caught in a landslide No escape from reality Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy Because I'm easy come, easy go; little high, little low anyway the wind blows doesn't really matter to me To me.

Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.

Music is everybody's possession. It's only publishers who think that people own it.

Music melts all the separate parts of our bodies together.