Seated one day at the organ, I was weary and ill at ease, And my fingers wandered idly Over the noisy keys.

Dreams grow holy put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming, But where each flows on unmingling, both are fruitless and in vain.

It seemed the harmonious echo From our discordant life.

Joy is like restless day; but peace divine Like quiet night; Lead me, O Lord,-till perfect Day shall shine Through Peace to Light.

'I don't intend to write depressing songs and I'd probably rather write happy ones'

'I think it's a good, alone-in-the-middle-of-the-day type of a record. Or very late at night, with a whole bunch of friends after you've sort of had your fill …

I'm tired of Love; I'm still more tired of Rhyme. But money gives me pleasure all the time.