“Mud can make you prisoner and the plains can make you dry.”

Why can’t a woman be more like a man? Men are so honest, so thoroughly square.

We met at nine We met at eight I was on time No, you were late Ah yes! I remember it well.

There even are places where English completely disappears. In America, they haven’t used it for years!

On a clear day, how it will astound you That the glow of your feelings outshines every star.

On a clear day, rise and look around you, and you’ll see who you are.

Men die but an idea does not.

Lots of cosy sky That God and I can share. I need air. I need air.

A schedule so tight that it would only work if I didn’t sleep on Monday nights.

Pleasure without joy is as hollow as passion without tenderness.

It’s not a pretty face, I grant you. But underneath its flabby exterior is an enormous lack of character.

All to often, however, what she [the woman] does want is the man she hopes she will make out of the man she already has.

Don’t let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief shining moment, that was known as Camelot.

I could have danced all night!

There’s a smile on my face for the whole human race.

Eternally noble, historically fair; Who, when you win, will always give your back a pat. Why can’t a woman be like that?

By order summer lingers through September In Camelot.

When I did the first edit of Les plages, it was very dry and very square in a way. I was just saying the minimum. I said, Well, if this is the minimum, I don’t make it. So I tried to make it more refined.

When the desire ain’t on me I don’t need help. When it is on me I don’t want any. See? Like the old fellah that never mended his roof. Said on a wet day he couldn’t do it and on a dry day it was as good as anybody’s.

You are the sand that doesn’t stick when I am dry and sad.

As a man of faith, God doesn’t bring you to things that you can’t get through. He doesn’t put you in a spot and then leave you out to dry.

My original appearance disappears just like tears disappear when falling from the eyes. Dried and then lost.

Saturate me with you, and never let me dry.

If I’m left high and dry at the end of this wild journey, just taking it is a great feeling.

I’m sorry only I can both drown you and be the summer that dries it away.