“On a morning from a Bogart movie, in a country where they turn back time.”

You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre, contemplating a crime. She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running like a watercolor in the rain.

Looking so cool, his greed is hard to conceal, he’s fresh out of law school.

most of the rest of it is about image or the beat or the sound, or else it’s a tribal thing.

She doesn’t give you time for questions as she locks up your arms in hers. And you follow till your sense of direction completely disappears.

Whoever you pretend to be, you must face yourself eventually.

Nothing that’s forced can ever be right, if it doesn’t come naturally, leave it.

Look to the past and remember no empire rises that sooner or later won’t fall.

And all the songs I ever sung each one of them untied me And all the girls I ever loved have left themselves inside me.

She comes out of the sun in a silk dress, running like a water color in the rain.

Do you remember the church across the sands? You stood outside and planned to travel the lands, where the pilgrims go.

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

We measure our days out in steps of uncertainty not turning to see how far we’ve come.

Movie queens diffuse into Cinema haze, while libertines read pornozines in street cafes.

Of all the girls I ever knew some loved and some denied me And all the words I ever said have been no use to hide me.

There’s room in the world for one historical folk-rock singer to make a decent living, and I happen to be it.

Don’t bother asking for explanations, she’ll just tell you that she came in the year of the cat.

If people really liked to work, we’d still be plowing the land with sticks and transporting goods on our backs.

Perfect love will never want the preeminence in everything, it will never want to take the place of another, it will always be willing to take the back seat.

I came home every Friday afternoon, riding the six miles on the back of a big mule. I spent Saturday and Sunday washing and ironing and cooking for the children and went back to my country school on Sunday afternoon.

What you need is someone to take hold of you–gently, with love, and hand your life back to you, like something gold you let go of–and I can! I’m determined to do it–and nothing’s more determined than a cat on a tin roof–is there?

People won’t want powers being handed back from bureaucrats in Brussels to be given to bureaucrats in Britain.

He knew them only ‘in Braille’ – the curtains were never drawn back in the rooms in Oxford where he met those boys. It was the most sordid life you can imagine. And he was bleating about love and dragging the fair name of Mr. Plato into the trial – after a life like that?

Back of ninety-nine out of one-hundred assertions that a thing cannot be done is nothing, but the unwillingness to do it.

I was amazed to receive later a substantial sum for sitting in my room and talking about myself. If only I could get some of the back pay!