In California in the early Spring, There are pale yellow mornings, when the mist burns slowly into day, The air stings like Autumn, clarifies like pain - Well, I have dreamed this coast myself.
We cannot be contented because we are happy, and we cannot be happy because we are contented.
I love to play; a stage is a safe place for me to be. It's not that way for most folks, but I'd be lost without it.

