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No matter how much I prove and prod, I cannot quite believe in God But oh, I hope to God that He, Unswervingly believes in me.

Yip Harburg

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Yip Harburg
Age: 84 †
Born: 1896
Born: April 8
Died: 1981
Died: March 5
Composer
Lyricist
Poet
Screenwriter
Songwriter
Edgar Yipsel Yip Harburg
Edgar Yipsel Harburg
E. Y. Harburg
Isidore Hochberg
Much
Prod
Believe
Believes
God
Prove
Quite
Hope
Cannot
Matter
Unswervingly

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Once I built a railroad now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?
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The world would be a safer place, If someone had a plan, Before exploring outer space, To find the inner man.
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I am one of the last of a small tribe of troubadours, who still believe that life is a beautiful and exciting journey with a purpose and grace which are well worth singing about.
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When I'm not near the girl I love, I love the girl I'm near.
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Lives of great men all remind us greatness takes no easy way.
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Words make you think a thought. Music makes you feel a feeling. A song makes you feel a thought.
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Lives of great men all remind us, Greatness takes no easy way, All the heroes of tomorrow, Are the heretics of today. Socrates and Galileo, John Brown, Thoreau, Christ, and Debs, Heard the night cry Down with traitors! And the dawn shout Up the rebs!
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As the writer of the lyric of the song 'God's Country,' I am outraged by the suggestion that somehow I am connected with, believe in, or am sympathetic with Communist or totalitarian philosophy.
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No matter how high or great the throne, What sits on it is the same as your own.
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They who meet on an April night are forever lost in love, if there's moonlight all about and there's no moon above.
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My heart wants roots My mind wants wings. I cannot bear Their bickerings.
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Ding-dong, the wicked witch is dead.
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A Russian child asked his mother : does God know we don't believe in Him?
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Songs are the pulse of a nation's heart. A fever chart of its health.
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Someday I'll wish upon a star.
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Say, it's only a paper moon, / Sailing over a cardboard sea.
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WHERE and WHEN, Are lost in space. THERE and THEN, Do not embrace. So before we disappear, Come sweet NOW and kiss the HERE.
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Did God who gave us flowers and trees, Also provide the allergies?
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The Lord made Adam, the Lord made Eve, he made 'em both a little bit naive.
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When the idle poor, Become the idle rich, You'll never know, Just who is who, Or who is which.
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