And clenching your fist for the ones like us Who are oppressed by the figures of beauty.

My friends are gone and my hair is grey. I ache in places I used to play. And I’m crazy for love but I’m not coming on. I’m just paying my rent every day in the tower of song.

First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin

I would say the hummingbird really deserves the royalties on [some of my songs].

The wars they will be fought again The holy dove be caught again bought and sold and bought again; the dove is never free.

I looked into [Prozac]. I must say that it is certainly a wonder drug.

The art of longing's over, and it's never coming back.