Every Writer At The New Yorker Is

I Have Tried My Hand At Bribery, Blackmail, And Deceit. And I've Served Time For Everything, Cept Beggin On The Street.

When I Think Of Mystery, I Don't Think About Myself. I Think Of The Universe, Like Why Does The Moon Rise When The Sun Falls? Caterpillars Turn Into Butterflies? I Really Haven't Remained A Recluse.

On The Cliffs Of Your Wild Cat Charms I'm Riding.

My Big Fear Was That My Guitar Would Go Out Of Tune.

Early On, Before Rock 'n' Roll, I Listened To Big Band Music - Anything That Came Over The Radio - And Music Played By Bands In Hotels That Our Parents Could Dance To. We Had A Big Radio That Looked Like A Jukebox, With A Record Player On The Top. The Radio/record Player Played 78rpm Records. When We Moved To That House, There Was A Record On There, With A Red Label. It Was Bill Monroe, Or Maybe It Was The Stanley Brothers. I'd Never Heard Anything Like That Before. Ever. And It Moved Me Away From All The Conventional Music That I Was Hearing.