I Can Only Sing Songs My Way.

Don't Be In Such A Hurry.

I Can't Stand To Sing The Same Song The Same Way Two Nights In Succession. If You Can, Then It Ain't Music, It's Close Order Drill, Or Exercise Or Yodeling Or Something, Not Music.

The Difficult I'll Do Right Now. The Impossible Will Take A Little While.

I Joined Count Basie's Band To Make A Little Money And To See The World. For Two Years I Didn't See Anything But The Inside Of A Blue Goose Bus, And I Never Got To Send Home A Quarter.

So I Asked Him To Play "trav'lin' All Alone." That Came Closer Than Anything To The Way I Felt. And Some Part Of It Must Have Come Across. The Whole Joint Quieted Down. If Someone Had Dropped A Pin, It Would Have Sounded Like A Bomb. When I Finished, Everybody In The Joint Was Crying In Their Beer, And I Picked Thirty-eight Bucks Up Off The Floor. . . . When I Showed Mom The Money For The Rent And Told Her I Had A Regular Job Singing For Eighteen Dollars A Week, She Could Hardly Believe It.