The talking oak To the ancient spoke. But any tree Will talk to me.
Without a wish, without a will, I stood upon that silent hill And stared into the sky until My eyes were blind with stars and still I stared into the sky.
Some things have to be believed to be seen.
The handwriting on the wall may be a forgery.
Time, you old gipsy man, Will you not stay, Put up your caravan Just for one day?
I did not pray Him to lay bare The mystery to me, Enough the rose was Heaven to smell, And His own face to see.
God loves an idle rainbow, no less than laboring seas.
The thing that influenced me most was the way Tommy played his trombone. It was my idea to make my voice work in the same way as a trombone or violin-not sounding like them, but "playing" the voice like those instrumentalists.
One should always be a little improbable.
The degradation to which you subject others comes back, sooner or later, to haunt you.
Just remember, you can do anything you set your mind to, but it takes action, perseverance, and facing your fears.