There’s Nothing As Glamorous To Me As

Paul's Last Words To Linda: "you're Up On Your Beautiful Appaloosa Stallion. It's A Fine Spring Day. We're Riding Through The Woods. The Bluebells Are All Out, And The Sky Is Clear-blue".

I'm Only 49 Years Old. I'm Still In The Middle Of This Whole Thing. I Don't Feel Like It's Finished At All. I'm Still Planning To Write Better Songs.

What I Have To Say Is All In The Music. If I Want To Say Anything, I Write A Song.

I Can't Deal With The Press; I Hate All Those Beatles Questions.

We Don't Eat Anything That Has To Be Killed For Us.