“You played and sang a snatch of song,
A song that all-too well we knew;
But whither had flown the ancient wrong;
And was it really I and you?
O, since the end of life's to live
And pay in pence the common debt,
What should it cost us to forgive
Whose daily task is to forget?”

“You sang far better than you knew; the songs
That for your listeners’ hungry hearts sufficed
Still live,—but more than this to you belongs:
You sang a race from wood and stone to Christ.”

“Roger: I think that we still do what the song is asking for; you can't really control what kind of songs come out while writing,, so if the songs needs horns, we'll do some horns, if not, then that's ok too. We really don't think too much about what our fans want us to write, we just try to stay true to what is best for the song.”

“O thrush, your song is passing sweet
But never a song that you have sung,
Is half so sweet as thrushes sang
When my dear Love and I were young.”

“Somewhere we went wrong
We were once so strong
Our love is like a song
You can't forget it at all.”

“I had a conversation here today with someone asked, ‘Well, what about Pence? If you are able to impeach, Pence will be worse. Well, I said, ‘Look, one at a time. You knock one down, and we’ll be ready for Pence. We’ll get him, too.”

“The pause makes you think the song will end. And then the song isn't really over, so you're relieved. But then the song does actually end, because every song ends, obviously, and THAT. TIME. THE. END. IS. FOR. REAL.”

“Roger: We’re playing like three songs and the old stuff that everyone wants to hear too. We can’t play just all brand new songs you got to mix it up a little.”

“A lot of songs I sang to crowds to get their reaction. That's how I knew they'd hit.”

“Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang
When life was sweet because you call’d them sweet?”