I Was In The Winter Of My Life, And The Men I Met Along The Road Were My Only Summer. At Night I Fell
I was in the winter of my life, and the men I met along the road were my only summer. At night I fell asleep with visions of myself dancing and laughing and crying with them. Three years down the line of being on an endless world tour and my memories of them were the only things that sustained me - and my only real happy times.
I was a singer - not a very popular one. I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet. But upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky, that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken. But I really didn't mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing to know what true freedom is. When people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I had been living, they asked me why, but there's no use in talking to people who have a home. They have no idea whatitslike to seek safety in other people. For home to be wherever you lie your head.
I was always an unusual girl. My mother told me that I had a chameleon soul. No moral compass pointing due north. No fixed personality. Just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and wavering as the ocean. And if I said I didn't plan for it to turn out this way I'd be lying. Because I was born to be the other woman. Who belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone. Who had nothing, who wanted everything. With a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn't even talk about it. And pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.
Every night I used to pray that I'd find my people - and finally I did. On the open road. We had nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing we desired anymore. Except to make our lives into a work of art. Live fast. Die young. Be wild. And have fun. I believe in the country America used to be. I believe in the person I want to become. I believe in the freedom of the open road. And my motto is the same as ever, "I believe in the kindness of strangers". And When I'm at war with myself, I ride, I just ride.
Who are you? Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies? Have you created a life for yourself where you can experience them? I have. I am fucking crazy, but I am free.
- Lana Del Rey
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Paul’s adorable reactions to John’s teasing
Humanity takes itself too seriously. It is the world's original sin. If the cave-man had known how to laugh, History would have been different.
Oscar Wilde
Q: ‘How many more years do you think it will go on?’ Paul McCartney: 'Don’t know. We’re not…’ John Lennon: 'We’re not taking bets.’ Q: 'Have you got any idea? Will it be three? Four? What do you think?’ George Harrison: 'Till death do us part.’ (laughter)
The Beatles’ Seattle press conference, 21 August 1964 (via justfourpartsoftheone)
“You remember little things about people. I remember sort of seeing him and he comes in and gives me a hug and says ‘touching is good.’ I’ll never forget that. Touching is good. So I do a lot of hugging now.“
-Paul McCartney on John Lennon
“the false notion that democracy means that my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge”
Scan - The Beatles, Germany, June 1966. Scanned from The Beatles: Inside Beatlemania.
“John loved George, and George loved John. Their friendship was a very special one.” - Yoko Ono, Rolling Stone, 17 January 2002 “‘The thing is, I knew George longer than any of the guys in the Beatles. Doesn’t mean I knew him any better, mind, but I knew him longer. He was the kid in the school uniform with the big quiff who got on the bus the stop after mine. And sometimes he’d sit down next to me and we’d start talking rock’n’roll. We shared our records, we learnt chords together, we even tried to make a guitar together. We did the whole teenage bonding thing, trying to pull birds, hitchhiking to Harlech, all the formative stuff.’ He falls silent for a moment. ‘I can’t quite believe it’s over. It’s just a really sad feeling sometimes. Same with John, except with John’s death there was all this anger too. The jerk of all jerks,’ he hisses, referring to Mark Chapman, Lennon’s murderer, ‘to shoot someone like John Lennon.’ He shakes his head. ‘And now Georgie’s gone too,’ he says, quietly, ‘It’s not a nice feeling, really. Not nice. At all.’”- The Observer interview with Paul McCartney, 18 September 2005 “I loved George, George loved me.” - Ringo Starr, Concert for George, 2002
“Paul wrote ‘Oh! Darling’ after John telling him that he was leaving The Beatles… he actually cried the rest of the day after being driven home by Mal Evans”
