'Baby's Got Her Blue Jeans On' was my anthem as a child. It was about me. I was Baby.
The best inheritance a father can leave his children is a good example.
Walk a little slower, Dad Cos I am only small. I'm following in your footsteps, And I don't want to fall. Someday when I'm all grown up. You're what I want to be; Then I will have a little child, Who'll want to follow me. And I would want to lead just right, And know that I was true; So, walk a little slower, Dad, For I must follow you. A very very very Happy Birthday Dad
The greatest gift I ever had Came from God; I call him Dad!
Be pleased to look forward, And pleased to look behind, Count today, your 40th, and each birthday With a grateful mind.
It started with a simple ring, You became husband and wife, You progressed to being parents And you're still best friends for life.
May today be filled With bright hopes for the future And happy memories of the past
In this country, it doesn't make any difference where you were born. It doesn't make any difference who your parents were. It doesn't make any difference if, like me, you couldn't even speak English until you were in your twenties.
Great artists are products of their own time: they do not spring forth fully equipped from the head of Jove, but are formed by the circumstances acting upon them since birth. These circumstances include the ambiance created by the other, lesser artists of their own time, who have all done their part in creating the pressure that forces up an exceptional talent. Unjustly, but unavoidably, the very closeness of a great artist to his colleagues and contemporaries leads to their eclipse.
I'm a hopeless romantic with a dirty mind.
The only reason they're out there is to see me fall into the damn orchestra pit.