Nobody on the road. Nobody on the beach. I feel it in the air, the summer's out of reach.

Playing the drums hurts my back.

I'm certainly not thrilled with everything the Eagles did, but there are some things I'm quite proud of.

I have a bad back partially from playing the drums and singing. I used to have to hold my body in such a position that my spine got out of alignment.

Sharper than a serpents tongue, tighter than a bongo drum, quicker than a one night stand, slicker than a mambo band.

The land of opportunity spawned a whole new breed of men without souls.

I remember a time when things were a lot more fun around here, when good was good and evil was evil, before things got fuzzy.