Where The Tennessee River, Like A Silver

A Lean, Loose-jointed Negro Had Commenced Plunking A Guitar Beside Me While I Slept. His Clothes Were Rags; His Feet Peeped Out Of His Shoes. His Face Had On It Some Of The Sadness Of The Ages. As He Played, He Pressed A Knife On The Strings Of The Guitar In A Manner Popularized By Hawaiian Guitarists Who Used Steel Bars. The Effect Was Unforgettable.

I Hate To See The Evening Sun Go Down.

Life Is Like A Trumpet - If You Don't Put Anything Into It, You Don't Get Anything Out Of It.

With A Guitar I Would Be Able To Express The Things I Felt In Sounds.

The Blues - The Sound Of A Sinner On Revival Day.