Americans have decided to be stupid and shallow since 1980.
America is in a runaway-train position and dragging all the world with it. It's grotesquely mentally ill.
All my battles were with male egos. I’m just looking for equality, not to dominate. But I want to be able to control my vision.
All I really, really want our love to do is to bring out the best in me and in you too.
And the seasons they go 'round and 'round And the painted ponies go up and down We're captive on the carousel of time We can't return we can only look behind From where we came And go round and round and round In the circle game.
Ask anyone in America where the craziest people live and they'll tell you California. Ask anyone in California where the craziest people live and they'll say Los Angeles. Ask anyone in Los Angeles where the craziest people live and they'll tell you Hollywood. Ask anyone in Hollywood where the craziest people live and they'll say Laurel Canyon. And ask anyone in Laurel Canyon where the craziest people live and they'll say Lookout Mountain. So I bought a house on Lookout Mountain.
But now old friends are acting strange They shake their heads, they say I've changed Well something's lost, but something's gained In living every day
But now it's just another show, you leave em laughing when you go. And if you care, don't let them know, don't give yourself away.
Buddy Holly and the early rock 'n' roll was no lighter than the way I play. It's very minimal.
Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air and feather canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way.
![Bob [Dylan] is not authentic at all. He's a plagiarist, and his name and voice are fake. Everything about Bob is a deception. We are like night and day, he and I.](https://quotes.thefamouspeople.com/images/quotes/joni-mitchell-143519.jpg)
Bob [Dylan] is not authentic at all. He's a plagiarist, and his name and voice are fake. Everything about Bob is a deception. We are like night and day, he and I.
Because Elvis gave 'em cars, you think I'm cheap.
Augustine, Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath are confessional writers and all three make me sick. I have nothing in common with them.
Applause, applause, life is our cause.
An unhappy mother does not raise a happy child.
An artist needs a certain amount of turmoil and confusion.
All the news of home you read, more about the war and of bloody changes.
All romantics meet the same fate some day. Drunk and cynical and boring someone in some dark cafe.
Acid, booze, and ass, needles, guns, and grass, lots of laughs.
Abstract Expressionism was invented by New York drunks.
A little lawyer on the tube, he said, its so easy now, anyone can sue.
A few drinks later you're not so choosy when the closing lights strip off the shadows on this strange new flesh you've found.
At the point where I'm trying to force something and it's not happening, and I'm getting frustrated with, say, writing a poem, I can go and pick up the brushes and start painting. At the point where the painting seems to not be going anywhere, I go and pick up the guitar.
Back then, I didn't have a big organization around me. I was just a kid with a guitar, traveling around. My responsibility basically was to the art, and I had extra time on my hands. There is no extra time now. There isn't enough time.
Because I'm so busy and because I think of myself as a painter, I desperately guard the time that I have to paint. And sometimes I'm irresponsible to my career in order to paint. Because painting is obsessive. I forget to eat. I forget to sleep.
