We work our jobs, collect our pay, believe were gliding down the highway, when in fact we’re slip sliding away.
There is a moment, a chip in time, when leaving home is the lesser crime.
Just slip out the back, Jack, make a new plan, Stan, you don’t need to be coy, Roy, just get yourself free. Hop on the bus, Gus, you don’t need to discuss much, just drop off the key, Lee, and get yourself free.
The death penalty is reserved for people who do not.
One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor.
All God requires from us is to enjoy life and love. That’s the whole point.
So I’ll continue to continue to pretend my life will never end, and flowers never bend with the rainfall.
I’m going to Graceland, for reasons I cannot explain. There’s some part of me wants to see Graceland. And I may be advised to defend every love, every ending, or maybe there’s no obligations now. Maybe I’ve a reason to believe we all will be received in Graceland.
You know, life is what you make of it- so beautiful or so what.
Blessed are the sat upon, spat upon, ratted on.
We had many more points of agreement than we had points of difference, but we did differ, and the bigger we got, the more insistent we got that each one of us should have his way.
I would be willing to do almost anything to make Art happy. I care about our friendship. The only thing I won’t do is change the essence of my work.
It’s outrageous to line your pockets off the misery of the poor; It’s outrageous, the crimes some human beings must endure...
The Wisdom is old, the Koran is old, the Bible is old. Disagreements? Work ’em out.
Every generation throws a hero up the pop charts.
Facts can be turned into art if one is artful enough.
Having a track record to live up to and the history of successes had become a hindrance. It becomes harder to break out of what people expect you to do.
How much can you do with two voices? You can sing thirds or you can sing fifths or you can do a background harmony.
How can you live in the Northeast?
Losing love is like a window in your heart...
Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.