Quote

As you sell your soul and sow your seeds, and you wound yourself and your loved ones bleed. And your habits grow and your conscience feeds, on all that you thought you should be.

Don McLean

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Don McLean
Age: 79
Born: 1945
Born: October 2
Composer
Guitarist
Singer
Singer-Songwriter
Songwriter
New Rochelle
New York
Donald McLean III
Grows
Seeds
Evil
Sell
Thought
Sells
Soul
Conscience
Bleed
Habit
Feeds
Ones
Wound
Grow
Habits
Loved
Wounds

More quotes by Don McLean

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As I watched him on the stage, my hands were clinched in fists of rage. No angel born in hell, could break that Satan's spell.
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I like to bring my audience on a journey during my 90 minute concert. I will tell stories every few songs about the creation of a tune etc. and it gives the listener a glimpse inside my songs and then as you get to the last half hour you pick up the pace and work harder and get more into the show. It's all about stagecraft.
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I am what I do, and that's partly why I don't want to give up singing. But when I can't sing well, I will.
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Hills of forest green where the mountains touch the sky, a dream come true, I'll live there til I die.
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Work my hands in the soil, what's the pay for all the toil? Dust for blood, dust for blood, dust for blood.
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How did the land of Jefferson, how did the land of King, become the land of hamburgers and raisins that can sing? Roosevelt was cripple, Lincoln was a geek, they'd never get elected, their clothes were never chic.
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When I go on the road now, which is less than before, but still more than I'd like to, I think of myself primarily as a singer. Not a songwriter, not a celebrity, just a man who likes to sing.
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Bad news on the doorstepI couldn’t take one more step
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But I knew - in the old days, if a song was a good song, I don't care if it was 'Yellow Submarine' or, you know, or 'The Times They Are a-Changin' or 'Don't Be Cruel', you knew it, you know? You heard that song, and you were talking about it, and you knew it.
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Starry Starry night Paint your palette blue and gray Look out on a summer's day With eyes that know the darkness in my soul Shadows on the hills Sketch the trees and the daffodils Catch the breeze and the winter chills In colors on the snowy linen land.
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I don't relate to what's left of the music business. There doesn't seem to be any point to it anymore. The business that I grew up in and loved, we made records a different way - there were record companies, there were stores where you could buy albums.
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I feel like a spinning top or a DreidelThe spinning don't stop when you leave the cradleYou just slow downRound and around this world you goSpinning through the lives of the people you knowWe all slow down.
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Do you believe in rock 'n roll? Can music save your mortal soul?
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Something touched me deep inside The day the music died.
Don McLean
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Drove my chevy to the levee but the levee was dry.
Don McLean
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Helter skelter in a summer swelter.
Don McLean
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And as the players tried to take the field, the Marching Band refused to yield.
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Every thread of creation is held in position by still other strands of things living. In an earthly tapestry hung from the skyline of smoldering cities so gray and so vulgar, as not to be satisfied with their own negativity, but needing to touch all the living as well.
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In the autumn of 1970 I had a job singing in the school system, playing my guitar in classrooms.
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The kids today all seem to think they should be stars, but I wasn't brought up that way.
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