“To be unbroken, what would that be?If words that were spoken, had not shattered me”

“Does anybody know how I feel?Sometimes I'm numb...Sometimes I'm overcome...Does anybody care what's going on?Do I have to wear my scarsLike a badge on my arm?For you to see meI need to release”

“Yeah – Sure I rememberMatter of fact it was just last SeptemberShe still calls it the fall to rememberLittle Heather when it all came togetherYou remember the first time you met her?She cried when it rained and blamed the weatherBut inside she strained with suicide lettersThe kind of cold you couldn’t warm with a sweater Hardly lasted past December She said she was headed down to defeat That’s the last you’d seen and never had dreamed That the same little Heather – It’s who you saw last weekIn an instant you couldn’t have missed her gleamAs she listened she looked like a distant queen With a difference, there for all to seeShe found a different – A different kind of free”

“Sometimes we don't need words. Rather, it's words that need us. If we were no longer here, words would lose their whole function. They would end up as words that are never spoken, and words that aren't spoken are no longer words.”

“Some music has words, and rock had words that at times aspired to poetry, but the words were always sounds first, spoken to the body before the mind.”

“There were words for what he meant to me, but if I studied every language ever spoken for the next thousand years, I still wouldn’t find enough of them to describe it.”

“So a voice in the mountain is enough to let loose an avalanche. A word too much may be followed by a caving in. If the word had not been spoken, it would not have happened.”