I wrote most of these songs right before the end. A lot of these songs are about that. Even if it's not direct, you can feel the beginning of the end of the breakup in these songs.
I wish myself to be a prop, if anything, for my songs. I want to be the vehicle for my songs. I would like to colour the material with as much visual expression as is necessary for that song.
If somebody sings a song that I wrote, I feel like it's a nice point of validation for the song, because it shows that the song is able to stand on its own. I like that.
I think there are some songs that stand the test of time better than others for sure. I think some songs go out of favour; I'll get sick of a song for a while, and I won't play it; then it'll make a comeback.
It can get a little costly if you try and leave it until then to write songs. But you're writing all the time. You're collecting songs. I've had songs that have been collected over a two-year period for my next record.
I like 'Bewitched' off the first album because it's one of the happiest songs I've ever written and, as any writer will tell you, happy songs are a million times more difficult to write than sad songs.
But mostly, I wrote songs and Viv wrote songs.
Old men are twice children.
Old wine is good for the stomach.
The best mirror is an old friend.
Old age is a hundred disorders.
Old age will not come alone.
Age appears to be best in four things; old wood best to burn, old wine to drink, old friends to trust, and old authors to read.
Whoever best serves the song is going to be served by the song.
The same song on a different day was a different song.
That was the Old Man’s favorite song. “Blow Ye Trumpet.” Them Negroes was far away from the doings on the plaza where the Old Man was to hang, way out from it. But they sang it loud and clear…. Blow ye trumpet blow Blow ye trumpet blow…. Yo...
[Alex has the tramp pinned down] Tramp: Well, go on, do me in you bastard cowards! I don't want to live anyway, not in a stinking world like this! Alex: Oh? And what's so stinking about it? Tramp: It's a stinking world because there's no law and orde...
Displaced Person’s Song If you see a train this evening, Far away, against the sky, Lie down in your woolen blanket, Sleep and let the train go by. Trains have called us, every midnight, From a thousand miles away, Trains that pass through empty ci...
There are more old drunkards than old doctors.
There never was an old slipper but there was an old stocking to match it.
Old friends are always new.
