“Lately I’ve heard rumors that the eagle may be lame. Just because I’ve been idle, don’t mean that I’m tame.”

The only two things in life that make it worth livin’ / Is guitars that tune good and firm feelin’ women

Men commit murder and all sorts of mayhem, in a few years they’re back on the streets.

Ladies love outlaws, like babies love stray dogs.

If you have the courage and you have the heart, that hero just might be you.

But Buddy was an upper. He was happy. He loved music, and he was really happy. I don’t know…

That was part of where Chet and I had problems, so I take complete blame for that.

I sat at a bar having a beer trying to hold down the stool.

They got me for possession of something that was long, long gone.

Country music isn’t a guitar, it isn’t a banjo, it isn’t a melody, it isn’t a lyric. It’s a feeling.

When I look at you girl, I see a true work of art. So many beautiful things coming in one little heart.

When you’re down in Texas, Bob Wills is still the king.

The men who could not fight, in a war that didn’t seem right. You let them come home, America.

Is your head up your ass so far that you can’t pull it out?

The rock and roll spirit. I learned a lot of that because I worked with Buddy Holly. I played bass with him, and he taught me a lot about that.

I love Johnny Cash, and I respect Johnny Cash. He’s the biggest. He’s like an Elvis in this business, but no, he’s never been the rebel.

Mainly what I learned from Buddy… was an attitude. He loved music, and he taught me that it shouldn’t have any barriers to it.

If you want to fly with the eagles, don’t swim with the ducks!

God is more eager to answer than we are to ask.

Shoot eagles on the Jack Nicklaus course, Porsche with the triple exhaust, Seats soft like a midget’s cough.

“We may talk what we please,” he cries in his enthusiasm for the oldest of the arts, “of lilies, and lions rampant, and spread eagles

Fool that I was, upon my eagle’s wings I bore this wren, till I was tired with soaring, and now he mounts above me.

September 11, 2001: Citizens of the U.S., besieged by terror’s sting, rose up, weeping glory, as if on eagles’ wings.–from the poem Angel of Remembrance: Candles for September 11, 2001

I was born by God’s dear grace, in an extraordinary place. Where the stars and stripes, and the eagle fly.

Remember, she’s an eagle when she flies!