The real question is: How much truth can I stand?
The critics. When they're right, they're right for the wrong reasons. And they're usually wrong.
My favorite thing about New York is the people, because I think they’re misunderstood. I don’t think people realize how kind New York people are.
And even if we win, if we win, HAH! Even if we win! Even if we play so far above our heads that our noses bleed for a week to ten days; even if God in Heaven above comes down and points his hand at our side of the field; even if every man woman and child held hands together and prayed for us to win, it just wouldn't matter because all the really good looking girls would still go out with the guys from Mohawk because they've got all the money! It just doesn't matter if we win or we lose. IT JUST DOESN'T MATTER! It just doesn't matter! It just doesn't matter!
I would jump into the middle of the street and say, "excuse me, there's a Mercedes that's got to get through here. " And I would push people out of the way, "get out of the way! Let him through!" Smacking their cars and stuff. Just like, "whack" and you just jump into it.
People usually go through a bad period when they first get successful. You're new and you're hot and things go wrong.
No one really wants to admit they are lonely, and it is never really addressed very much between friends and family. But I have felt lonely many times in my life.
In blues music, there's a lot of borrowing, so it's often difficult to identify the originator of a song.
It's the things I might have said that fester.
Organic life, we are told, has developed gradually from the protozoon to the philosopher, and this development, we are assured, is indubitably an advance. Unfortunately it is the philosopher, not the protozoon, who gives us this assurance.
The only friends who are free from cares are the goblet of wine and a book. Give me wine. . . that I may for a time forget the cares of the world.