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How can love survive in such a graceless age? The trust and self assurance that lead to happiness, they're the very things we kill.

Don Henley

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Don Henley
Age: 77
Born: 1947
Born: July 22
Composer
Drummer
Guitarist
Musician
Pianist
Singer
Singer-Songwriter
Gilmer
Texas
Donald Hugh Henley
00059874523 IPI
Reality
Graceless
Self
Assurance
Things
Survive
Love
Kill
Lead
Trust
Age
Happiness

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Sharper than a serpents tongue, tighter than a bongo drum, quicker than a one night stand, slicker than a mambo band.
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Cause a man with a briefcase can steal more money than any man with a gun.
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Sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge.
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We live a protracted adolescence. At some point you must leave the party.
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My love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone.
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I am an expert witness because I say I am.
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I'm always jotting things down on pieces of paper. I've got pieces of paper all over my house.
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Insect politics, indifferent universe. Bang your head against the wall, but apathy is worse.
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The government bugged the men's room in the local disco lounge.
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It was pretty frightening because as we all know, when large, famous groups breakup, a lot of the members don't survive in solo careers.
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I saw a Dead Head sticker on a Cadillac. A little voice inside my head said, don't look back, you can never look back.
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Lawsuits should not be used to destroy a viable and independent distribution system. The solution lies in the marketplace and not the courtroom.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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I said, baby, do you have no shame? She just looked at me, uncomprehendingly, like cows at a passing train.
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What are these voices outside love's open door, make us throw off our contentment, and beg for something more?
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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.
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So much time weeping and wailing and shaking our fists, creating enemies that really don't exist.
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The Eagles ended on a rather abrupt note, although in retrospect I realize now that it had been ending for quite some time.
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