Don McLean Quotes

And when no hope was left inside on that starry, starry night, you took your life as lovers often do. But I could have told you, Vincent, this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.

When people ask me what 'American Pie' means, I tell them it means I don't ever have to work again if I don't want to.

In a sense, 'American Pie' was a very despairing song but it can also be seen as very hopeful.

Starry, starry night, flaming flowers that brightly blaze, swirling clouds in violet haze reflect Vincent's eyes of china blue.

Do you believe in rock 'n roll? Can music save your mortal soul?

Drove my chevy to the levee but the levee was dry.

A long long time ago, I can still remember how that music use to make me smile.

This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.

Each thread of life that you leave, will spin around your deeds and dictate your needs.

My face on every coin engraved, the anarchists are all enslaved. My flag is forever waved, by the grateful people I have saved.

Faces come and faces go in circular rotation.But something yearns within to grow beyond infatuation.

I'm glad that my music has helped other people as it's helped me. It makes me glad that I did what I did with my life.

I had asthma when I was a kid, asthma so bad that it would turn into pneumonia and I almost died several times. Nobody knew why back then, but now it's obvious.

Bye, Bye Miss American Pie, drove my chevy to the levy but the levy was dry. Good old boys drinking whiskey and rye, singing, this'll be the day that I die.

Hills of forest green where the mountains touch the sky, a dream come true, I'll live there til I die.

Something touched me deep inside The day the music died.

American Pie speaks to the loss that we feel. That's why that song has found the niche that it has.

Not a word was spoken. The church bells all were broken.

People ask me if I left the lyrics open to ambiguity. Of course I did. I wanted to make a whole series of complex statements. The lyrics had to do with the state of society at the time.

Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack sat on a candle stick, cause fire is the devil's only friend.

And as the players tried to take the field, the Marching Band refused to yield.

The Byrds flew off the fallout shelter, eight miles high and falling fast.

I saw satan laughing with delight The day the music died.

Every pulse of your heartbeat is one liquid moment that flows through the veins of your being. Like a river of life flowing on since creation, approaching the sea with each new generation.

There we were all in one place, a generation lost in space.

Bad news on the doorstep;I couldn’t take one more step

As I watched him on the stage, my hands were clinched in fists of rage. No angel born in hell, could break that Satan's spell.

We all got up to dance. Oh, but we never got the chance!

I got my first guitar when I was 16. I'd play for my family and friends, but taking that guitar out there into the wide, wide world wasn't something I ever thought about.

I'd listen to all the stuff that was going on around me and drift off into my fantasies about it. My fantasies have fuelled all the songs I've ever written.

Helter skelter in a summer swelter.

I mean, I've been given a terrific life by the audiences who stuck with me all over the world.

I am what I do, and that's partly why I don't want to give up singing. But when I can't sing well, I will.

The kids today all seem to think they should be stars, but I wasn't brought up that way.

Over the years I've had more and more of an association with Nashville.

In the autumn of 1970 I had a job singing in the school system, playing my guitar in classrooms.

Do you recall what was revealed the day the music died?

Jerusalem is old, Jerusalem is new, Jerusalem can hold Moslem, Christian, Jew.

In the streets the children screamed. The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed

I think longevity is more important than trying to make people realize you're around every second.

Devoid of all romance, the music plays and everyone must dance. I'm bowing out.

Work my hands in the soil, what's the pay for all the toil? Dust for blood, dust for blood, dust for blood.

When I go on the road now, which is less than before, but still more than I'd like to, I think of myself primarily as a singer. Not a songwriter, not a celebrity, just a man who likes to sing.

They don't keep their promises in the promised land, its getting mighty hard to find an honest man.

As you sell your soul and sow your seeds, and you wound yourself and your loved ones bleed. And your habits grow and your conscience feeds, on all that you thought you should be.