Telephone message on his manager's answering machine shortly before dying of heroin overdose: I need help bad, man.

I just hate to be in one corner. I hate to be put as only a guitar player, or either only as a songwriter, or only as a tap dancer. I like to move around.

See, that's nothing but blues, that's all I'm singing about. It's today's blues.

I try all night to play a pretty note.

Knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens.

Sometimes music comes across to me just when I am sitting around doing nothing, and then the music makes me think of a few words I might have written.

It's funny how most people love the dead, once you're dead your made for life.