Don Henley Quotes - Page 3

I don't mind doing two or three Eagles songs and playing the drums. I'm not one of those artists who's going to sit here and deny the past.

My love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone.

You're driving with your eyes closed.

I said, baby, do you have no shame? She just looked at me, uncomprehendingly, like cows at a passing train.

Fortune smiles on some, and lets the others go free.

I could have played more complex stuff. I could have been a busier player. But that's not what I wanted to do. I played what I wanted to play.

I am an expert witness because I say I am.

I'm blessed with a pretty good voice. So just sitting back there banging on the tubs wasn't enough.

Johnny can get down and Johnny can throw up, but Johnny can't read.

I'm always jotting things down on pieces of paper. I've got pieces of paper all over my house.

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.

I played drums on Keith Carradine's first record.

The Eagles ended on a rather abrupt note, although in retrospect I realize now that it had been ending for quite some time.

Arm chair warriors often fail.

There are no facts, there is no truth, just data to be manipulated.

Between each album I try to gain a new insight that I didn't have before and perhaps write a song about something that I've written about before, but from a fresh viewpoint.

I was flying back from Lubbock and I saw Jesus on the plane, or maybe it was Elvis. You know, they kind of look the same.

This year, notoriety got confused with fame, and the devil is down hearted because there is nothing left for him to claim.

Selling eight million copies of your first album will mess you up.

We're being treated to the wisdom of some puffed up, little fart. Doing exactly what I used to do, pretensions to anarchy and art.

Some records with drum machines on them sound phony and plastic. It all depends on how you use the tools.

Insect politics, indifferent universe. Bang your head against the wall, but apathy is worse.

O' beautiful, for spacious skies But now those skies are threatening They're beating plowshares into swords For this tired old man that we elected king.

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

We live a protracted adolescence. At some point you must leave the party.