And a thimble's worth of milky moon Can touch hearts larger than a thimble. - Joanna Newsom

And all that we built, and all that we breathed
And all that we spilled or pulled up like weeds Is piled up in back and it burns irrevocably
And we spoke up in turns 'til the silence crept over me.

My voice in combination with the harp - which, by the way, I use because I've played it my entire life, not to make some statement about the harp - somehow has … coloured people's interpretations of the music and projected an idea of childlike or fairytale quality or innocence. Which sometimes prevents people from listening to the songs the way I would like them to be listened to.

I may have changed, it's hard to gauge
Time won't account for how I've aged
Would that I could tie your lying tongue
Who says that leaving keeps you young.