And here’s to the blues, the real blues— where there’s a hint of hope in every cry of desperation.

We start our lives with blues . . . with music. It’s our first language. It’s the rhythm of the womb. It’s your mama’s heartbeat inside your head.

You got infinite channels and limitless rhymes, but the riddles of livin’ stay undefined?

The music echoes in the emptiness. It reminds us where we came from and where we’re bound.

There’s something lyrical about an eternal truth. It’s a graceful riff. A free-flowing melody. Light and airy, it floats all around you. And when it lands on your ears, when you hear it for the...

Your muse ain’t singin’ on your MTV? Can’t even see him on your HD TV?

Of a truth, my Lord, such good meat have you given me that never more will I eat of other.”THen he, hearing this, ran upon her with his sword and would have struck at her...

The rich fop Francis of Assisi was bored all his life―until he fell in love with Christ and gave all his stuff away and became the troubadour of Lady Poverty.