“To this day, if I ever meet grownups who play ukulele, I love ’em.”

What I have to say is all in the music. If I want to say anything, I write a song.

A lot of artists use memories. A lot of prose writers, a lot of poets, a lot of songwriters, refer back to something. Generally it’s all you’ve got, unless you’re brilliant and can write totally in the now.

The good Lord made this world and everything that’s in it. The way I see it, baby, you got to love it to the limit.

I still believe that love is all you need. I don’t know a better message than that.

It’s a lifelong gift, something you can call on at any time.

A hundred years from now, people will listen to the music of the Beatles the same way we listen to Mozart.

I like most kinds of music. So I haven’t got a bag, as they say. Except the big black one in the hall outside.

When I see bacon, I see a pig, I see a little friend, and that’s why I can’t eat it. Simple as that.

The best thing I ever saw was a man who loved his wife.

Trumpets are a bit more adventurous; they’re drunk! Trumpeters are generally drunk. It wets their whistle.

I’m only 49 years old. I’m still in the middle of this whole thing. I don’t feel like it’s finished at all. I’m still planning to write better songs.

I think [Transcendental Meditation] is what people need. They don’t need high minded talk, they need results.

Be cool and you’ll be alright. That’s rock & roll religion.

There will be an answer. Let it be.

Every time I felt low, I just put on an Elvis record and I’d feel great, beautiful.

Painting is a magical process that I like, where you conjure something out of nothing; you get a little idea that leads you through. You can go into a trance while you’re doing it, so it’s a nice contrast to real life.

Turning pain into poetry turns rainy days into rainbows and raw dirt into meadows.

i want to tell you that miss you but the day you turned your back on me was the day vowed to myself you are never allowed the privilege to the depths of my heart again

My days are a series of “I wish you were here” moments – All my roads lead to you.

How will we know its forever? We will spend our days together laughing, and never check the time.

I wonder if one day I will ever feel as though I am not hard to love.

Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and feed him for a lifetime. Teach a man to cycle and he will realize fishing is stupid and boring.

In public affairs men are often better pleased that the truth, though known to everybody, should be wrapped up under a decent cover than if it were exposed in open daylight to the eyes of all the world.

If the days knew where you went it would not have become winter so soon, Nor the cold that freezes my hands would have tasted so much of longing for you.