“I don’t know what I’m going to write when I begin to write. It feels like you are walking down a path, but you can’t see around the bend and you don’t know where you are going to go, which is fun.”

Take two bodies and you twirl them into one, their hearts and their bones, and they won’t come undone.

Was a sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. Not a negative word was heard.

Given all the facts that I’m young and I’m in good health and I’m famous – that I have talent, I have money – given all these facts, I want to know why I’m so unhappy.

I would be willing to do almost anything to make Art happy. I care about our friendship. The only thing I won’t do is change the essence of my work.

You know, life is what you make of it- so beautiful or so what.

After all those years of automatic success, you don’t get nervous any more. It’s really necessary to be nervous and be a little bit frightened. It pumps the adrenalin into you and you really get down there and try.

The abstract music is just more interesting because it doesn’t really have anything to say, but if it is good, it creates thoughts and feelings, and I enjoy that. For me, once the music creates those thoughts and feelings, I begin to write a song about it.

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.

People ask how I feel about getting old. I tell them I have the same question. I’m learning as I go.

The course of a lifetime runs/over and over again.

People often called us perfectionists, but we were not looking for perfection. We were looking for some kind of magic in the music.

There are two sorts of people in the world: Those who listen and those who are thinking about what they are going to say next.

I’m laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone, Going home, where the new york city winters aren’t bleedin’ me.

Time it was And what a time it was, it was A time of innocence A time of confidences Long ago it must be I have a photograph Preserve your memories They’re all that’s left you.

There must be 50 ways to leave your lover.

All lies and jests, still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.

Time to move on, time to get going. What lies ahead I have no way of knowing. But under my feet, baby, grass is growing.

To the heart that knows contentment, every day is Thanksgiving.

O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.

Be still and know that I am God.

The whole world steps aside for the man who knows where he is going.

There’s no excuse for the young people not knowing who the heroes and heroines are or were.

Destiny is made known silently.

How can I know what I’ll do, until I’ve done it? How can I say?