“If you listen long enough you can hear my skin grow tough love is painful to the touch must be made of stronger stuff.”

I have never been comfortable being the front man.

In a world that keeps on pushing me around, I’m gonna stand my ground, and I won’t back down.

But not me, baby, I’ve got you to save me.

Where the sky begins, the horizon ends, despite the best intentions.

Any time you’re making a living at what you love to do, you’re blessed.

I never could have dreamed that her heart was so wicked, but I keep coming back because it’s so hard to kick it.

You were the one who made things different, you were the one who took me in. You were the one thing I could count on, above all, you were my friend.

Every verse a diamond, every chorus gold, the sound was my salvation. It was only everything, before money became king.

Even the losers get lucky sometimes. Even the losers keep a little bit of pride. They get lucky sometimes.

You get into your late fifties, people start falling like flies all around you. I don’t take life for granted any more. I’m really glad to be here.

You need eagles wings to get over things that make no sense in this world.

I had the radio on, I was driving. Trees flew by, me and Del were singing, Little Runaway, I was flying.

You believe what you want to believe. You see, you don’t have to live like a refugee.

I’ll stand my ground and I won’t back down.

I’m not any happier anywhere than when I’m in the studio. I’m over the moon about it. It keeps me young, it keeps me feeling like I have some purpose.

My sister got lucky, married a yuppie, and took him for all he was worth. Now she’s a swinger dating a singer, I can’t decide which is worse.

The subconscious is ceaselessly murmuring, and it is by listening to these murmurs that one hears its truth.

Music must be listened to; it is not enough to hear it. A duck hears also.

Young men, listen to an old man to whom old men listened when he was young.

The test of a good letter is a very simple one. If one seems to hear the other person talking as one reads, it is a good letter.

Let me listen to me and not to them.

Mostly every one is needing some one to be one listening to that one being one being one boasting.

I take a sun bath and listen to the hours, formulating, and disintegrating under the pines, and smell the resiny hardihood of the high noon hours. The world is lost in a blue haze of distances, and the immediate sleeps in a thin and finite sun.

Each day when you wake up, say: “What miracles would you have me perform today?” Then listen.