Dewitt Bodeen

Even as fog continues to lie in the valleys, so does ancient sin cling to the low places, the depressions in the world consciousness.

What does one tell a husband? One tells him nothing.

I suppose any note, no matter how sour, sounds like a song if you hold onto it long enough.

Before I die, I will preach to the Muslims in the Arab world. I will preach in Egypt, Lebanon, Syria and Iran. I will preach in Tehran. I will do it under the umbrella of God. And see its impact.

I think a lot of songwriters would agree that it's often easier to find inspiration in misery.

Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.