“Sitting in the morning sun, I’ll be sitting when the evening comes.”

When I go into the studio, I’m strictly for business. I don’t like any fooling around in the studio.

Sittin’ here resting my bones, this loneliness won’t leave me alone. Two thousand miles I roam, just to make this dock my home.

I love England from head to toe. I love the weather, the people. I was there in the summer and it was nice. The people are so groovy.

If I were to leave the U.S., I’d live in England. But I’d never leave the U.S. I own a 400-acre farm in Macon, Georgia. I raise cattle and hogs. I own horses, too. I love horses as much as singing. I like to hunt on horseback.

This loneliness won’t leave me alone.

You’ve got to concentrate on the business of entertaining and writing songs. Always think different from the next person. Don’t ever do a song as you heard somebody else do it.

Illuminating and making glad again the dark clouds of life. It is the morning and the evening star, that in glad refulgence, there on the awed horizon, call Nature’s hearts to an uplifted rejoicing in God’s marvelous firmament!

Being human, she suffered from this lack and did what she could to make up for it. If she passed the evening bent over a table in the library and later declared that she had spent that time playing cards, it was as though she had managed to do both those things.

There are three reasons for becoming a writer: the first is that you need the money; the second that you have something to say that you think the world should know; the third is that you can’t think what to do with the long winter evenings.

Each morning sees some task begun, each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, has earned a night’s repose.

He was a staffer at Punch but in the evening he wrote columns for the Evening Standard and The Times.

The evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming.

I’ve seen it all through the yellow windows of the evening train.

Sunday-evening tea before the fire! I have never missed one moment of beauty, not even taken it for granted.