band

If taxation without consent is robbery, the United States government has never had, has not now, and is never likely to have, a single honest dollar in its treasury. If taxation without consent is not robbery, then any band of robbers have only to declare themselves a government, and all their robberies are legalized.

A band is a good way to break up a friendship.

I do a lot of curiosity buying; I buy it if I like the album cover, I buy it if I like the name of the band, anything that sparks my imagination.

What we used to say was whoever had the bow tie got to lead the band. There was never any jealousy.

This band has never had an argument. It's just amazing.

I'm inspired by the sheer ingenuity and intelligence possessed by my fellow band mates.

We were really grown up for our age and it was an incredible special band.

We learned pretty early on in this band that you can't have snobbery in music.

The only things Mick and I disagree about is the band, the music and what we do.

I'd love to do my own music for sure. I'd love to have a band.

There's a beauty in being part of a band, when there's equality and trust.

If the label presents them with a contract that the band don't want to sign, all the label has to do is wait. There are a hundred other bands willing to sign the exact same contract, so the label is in a position of strength.

I was brought up with psychics and tarot cards. My mum was always told I was going to be in a boy band and be famous as a singer.

Well, a sort of epiphany: I was in a great band. And it's very cool to be at 53 and realise that when you were a kid you were in a great band.

We were orphans before we were ever the sons of these songs.

The hall erupted into punches, blows, and kicks. The dancing ended but the band played on. The older men escorted the women from the premises and so ended a bloody-good night.

There is a place where the sidewalk endsAnd before the street begins,And there the grass grows soft and white,And there the sun burns crimson bright,And there the moon-bird rests from his flightTo cool in the peppermint wind.Let us leave this place where the smoke blows blackAnd the dark street winds and bends.Past the pits where the asphalt flowers growWe shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,And watch where the chalk-white arrows goTo the place where the sidewalk ends.Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,For the children, they mark, and the children, they knowThe place where the sidewalk ends.

Music shouldn't be just a tune, it should be a touch.