I think I was born because my parents had two boys and wanted to give it one more go and try for a girl. . . they got me instead.
Is That All There Is?
Retire? Not on your life. I have no plans to stop singing. What are you going to do when you love music? It's a terrible disease. You can't stop. Of course, I'd like to get off the road.
I knew I couldn't sing over them, so I decided to sing under them. The more noise they made the more softly I sang. When they discovered they couldn't hear me, they began to look at me. Then they began to listen. As I sang, I kept thinking, 'softly with feeling. ' The noise dropped to a hum; the hum gave way to silence. I had learned how to reach and hold my audience -- softly, with feeling.
What are you going to do when you love music? You can't stop.
You should always look like a star. Otherwise people will lose a little of the esteem they have for you.
I learned courage from Buddha, Jesus, Lincoln, Einstein, and Mr. Cary Grant.
Because the rhythm of conversation makes no allowance for dead periods, because the presence of others calls for continuous responses, we are left to regret the inanity of what we say, and the missed opportunity of what we do not.
Every morning I stand on my head and do a yoga workout.
Whatever I'm doing, whatever comes along, this music is something that I've always wanted to do.
If we're open to it, God can use even the smallest thing to change our lives. . . to change us. It might be a laughing child, car brakes that need fixing, a sale on pot roast, a cloudless sky, a trip to the woods to cut down a Christmas tree, a school teacher, a Dunhill Billiard pipe. . . or even a pair of shoes. Some people will never believe. They may feel that such things are too trivial, too simple, or too insignificant to forever change a life. But I believe. And I always will.