I've never thought of myself as a singer anyway. . . I've been free from those considerations because so many people over the years told me I don't have a voice. I kind of bought that. I never thought that much about it to begin with. I knew I didn't have one of the great voices. As my Damon Runyanesque lawyer used to say, "none of you guys can sing. If I want to hear singing, I'll go to the Metropolitan Opera."

The moon is swimming naked and the summer night is fragrant with a mighty expectation of relief.

In dreams the truth is learned that all good works are done in the absence of a caress.

My interest in this pack of failures betrays my character.

If I knew where the good songs came from, I’d go there more often. It’s a mysterious condition. It’s much like the life of a Catholic nun. You’re married to a mystery.

I cannot understand why my arm is not a lilac tree.

I swear by this song and by all that I have done wrong, I will make it all up to thee.