Why is it that you still beguile me –As wind, stone, bird – and all the likes? Why is that you smile on me – With sudden summer lightning strikes?

I’m happy. But some beauty is nonesuch - The gently sloping path across the wood, The wretched bridge that’s just a little skewed And that, for which, I won’t be waiting much.

Forgive me that I felt forsaken, That grief and angst was all I knew. Forgive me that I kept mistaking Too many other men for you.

No one else was as close and as open, No one else so boiled my blood, Even he, who consigned me to torment, Even he, who caressed and forgot.

Who doesn't want to be loved? That's the whole point. So, when you can get that from someone across the globe, for just telling a story, that's a special thing.

Text first, rhythm second, melody third.

Do you suppose it's true, that St. Patrick was a parselmouth, and his muggle friends never knew?

I wouldn't trade those 10 years for anything. The Navy taught me a lot of things. It molded me as a man, and I made a lot of wonderful friends.

Nothing is so oppressive as a secret: women find it difficult to keep one long; and I know a goodly number of men who are women in this regard.

Before we make music, music makes us.

You can take my heart, but I can't let you take my dog.

By the time The Band did The Last Waltz, the chemistry had changed, and it wasn't a thrill anymore to live that studio kind of life.

The sun got confused about daylight savings time. It rose twice. Everything had two shadows.

Let me draw your attention to one thing which unfortunately we always forget: that is - "O man, have faith in yourself."