Any time you're making a living at what you love to do, you're blessed.

You and I will meet again, When we're least expecting it, One day in some far off place, I will recognize your face, I won't say goodbye my friend, For you and I will meet again.

You belong among the wildflowers You belong in a boat out at sea You belong with your love on your arm You belong somewhere you feel free

Buy me a drink, sing me a song; take me as I come, cause I can't stay long.

Go after what you really love and find a way to make that work for you, and then you'll be a happy person.

Do something you really like, and hopefully it pays the rent. As far as I'm concerned, that's success.

You belong somewhere you feel free.

Music really isn’t supposed to be perfect. It’s all about people relating to each other and doing something that’s really from the soul. It must come from the soul.

The waiting is the hardest part, every day you get one more yard. You take it on faith, you take it to the heart, the waiting is hardest part.

You were the one who made things different, you were the one who took me in. You were the one thing I could count on, above all, you were my friend.

Running down a dream... working on a mystery... going wherever it leads.

A weak mind complains about everything and loves nothing. A strong mind complains about nothing and loves everything.

When you believe you've become the best writer you can be… you still aren’t.

Every hurt buried deepin the mindhas an uncanny abilityto surface and make its presence feltwhen I am feeling low, hugging me like a long lost friend

The quantity of meaning compressed into small space by algebraic signs, is another circumstance that facilitates the reasonings we are accustomed to carry on by their aid.

Doesn't all experience crumble in the end to mere literary material?

It was as though we were a picture, trapped in time: this had been happening for hundreds of years, people sitting in a room, waiting for dinner, and listening to the blues.

I wonder at the idleness of tears.

Fate! This four letter little word gave the biggest harm to mankind! We must totally get rid of this degrading concept of primitiveness!

I'm a boy who doesn't want to grow up.

I mean, what's eleven million people now days?