Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Mick Jagger can't even make a successful solo album, and the Stones are the biggest rock group that ever was.
I try to write conversationally; I try to write like people speak and put the emphasis on the right syllable.
What are these voices outside love's open door, make us throw off our contentment, and beg for something more?
Sharper than a serpents tongue, tighter than a bongo drum, quicker than a one night stand, slicker than a mambo band.
I saw a Dead Head sticker on a Cadillac. A little voice inside my head said, don't look back, you can never look back.
Fame, at one time, was associated with accomplishment, but in this day and age fame and notoriety have become confused.
My creative life is a constant struggle to achieve a balance between letting things flow in and letting things flow out.
I was flying back from Lubbock and I saw Jesus on the plane, or maybe it was Elvis. You know, they kind of look the same.
This year, notoriety got confused with fame, and the devil is down hearted because there is nothing left for him to claim.
I'm fortunate that I've been in this business long enough that I've earned the right to be left alone by my record company.
The Eagles ended on a rather abrupt note, although in retrospect I realize now that it had been ending for quite some time.
I remember a time when things were a lot more fun around here, when good was good and evil was evil, before things got fuzzy.
We're being treated to the wisdom of some puffed up, little fart. Doing exactly what I used to do, pretensions to anarchy and art.
How can love survive in such a graceless age? The trust and self assurance that lead to happiness, they're the very things we kill.
It was pretty frightening because as we all know, when large, famous groups breakup, a lot of the members don't survive in solo careers.
I don't mind doing two or three Eagles songs and playing the drums. I'm not one of those artists who's going to sit here and deny the past.
I'm not easy to live with and I know that it's true. However, you're no picnic either, babe, and that's one of the things I liked about you.
I could have played more complex stuff. I could have been a busier player. But that's not what I wanted to do. I played what I wanted to play.
Lawsuits should not be used to destroy a viable and independent distribution system. The solution lies in the marketplace and not the courtroom.
I have a bad back partially from playing the drums and singing. I used to have to hold my body in such a position that my spine got out of alignment.
For every moment of joy Every hour of fear For every winding road that brought me here For every breath, for every day of living This is my Thanksgiving
O' beautiful, for spacious skies But now those skies are threatening They're beating plowshares into swords For this tired old man that we elected king.
I now derive physical and spiritual pleasure from gardening and there is tremendous satisfaction in knowing that I could survive almost anywhere if I had to.
Between each album I try to gain a new insight that I didn't have before and perhaps write a song about something that I've written about before, but from a fresh viewpoint.
I could stand out front and sing Eagles songs that I sing in my set, but I think people enjoy watching me sing and play the drums. It seems to fascinate people. I don't know why.
We got the bubble headed bleached blonde comes on at five, She can tell you 'bout the plane crash with a gleam in her eye, It's interesting when people die give us dirty laundry...
Sometimes songwriters and singers forget that. They get a melody in their head and the notes will take precedence, so that they wind up forcing a word onto a melody. It doesn't ring true.
There are people in your life who've come and gone, they let you down and hurt your pride. Better put it all behind you, life goes on, you keep carrying that anger, it'll eat you up inside.
I've been trying to get down to the heart of the matter but my will gets weak and my thoughts seem to scatter but I think it's about forgiveness... forgiveness, even if you don't love me anymore.
I have a certain pool of subject matter that I like to write about, things that interest me: politics, religion, ecology, and relationships between men and women. And that's usually what I focus on.
In the old days, words like sin and Satan had a moral certitude. Today, they're replaced with self-help jargon, words like dysfunction and antisocial behavior, discouraging any responsibility for one's actions.
What are these voices outside love's open door Make us throw off our contentment, and beg for something more? I'm learning to live without you now But I miss you sometimes The more I know, the less I understand All the things I thought I knew, I'm learning again
Anyone who knows anything should know you cannot take a master track of a recording and write another song over the top of it. You just can't do that. You can call it a tribute or whatever you want to call it, but it's against the law. That's a problem with some of the younger generation, they don't understand the concept of intellectual property and copyright.
No one in this country need go hungry, and alleviating the problem is primarily a matter of readjusting our priorities. In both the government and the private sector, self-interest has displaced the ideal of community that made this country great. The old world view of "us, we, our" has been replaced by "I, me, mine." The reasons for this are manifold and complex, but at the end of the day, we need to remember that, if one of us is suffering needlessly, all of us are diminished.
Lennon's was one of the first voices I emulated when I began to sing. When we held tryouts in my pal's dad's living room for the singer in our band, I sang a Beatles song that Lennon sang. There is something about the timbre of his voice, something that it conveys, that still gets to me. The quality and the poetry of his lyrics. The wry sense of humor. And the boyishness, in the beginning. There are a great many things that touch me about him... Lennon was, to put it in his own words, a 'working-class hero.'
O' beautiful for spacious skies But now those skies are threatening They're beating plowshares into swords For this tired old man that we elected king Armchair warriors often fail And we've been poisoned by these fairy tales The lawyers clean up all details Since daddy had to lie But I know a place where we can go And wash away this sin We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by And the tall grass wave in the wind Just lay your head back on the ground And let your hair spill all around me Offer up your best defence But this is the end This is the end of the innocence