Entries categorized as ‘Growing old’
In some fantasy world, I think, “Okay, I can go back [to Omemee].” But I really couldn’t. It’s not possible. [...] It’s funny, maybe because I’m getting older, I feel a kind of pulling from the area where I remember things as a kid. It’s an innaresting sensation.
- Neil Young in an interview with Jimmy McDonough; specific date unknown
Reference: McDonough, J. (2002). Shakey: Neil Young’s Biography. UK: Vintage Press. “Mr. Blue and Mr. Red”, p.44.
See also: “I really don’t have a yearning to return to Canada…” ; “Omemee’s a nice little town…”
Categories: Growing old · Human tendencies · Past (Nostalgia/memories) · Reality
Tagged: Shakey (Jimmy McDonough)
Lullabies, look in your eyes; run around the same old town. Does it mean that much to me to mean that much to you?
Categories: Growing old · Loneliness · Ordinary People · Philosophies · Reality · Society
Tagged: 1972, Harvest
I’ve been first and last: look at how the time goes past.
Categories: Growing old · Human tendencies · Reality · Simplicity · Time
Tagged: 1972, Harvest
Old man, look at my life: twenty-four and there’s so much more. Live alone in a paradise, that makes me think of two.
Categories: City/Country life · Growing old · Growing up · Ideals · Loneliness
Tagged: 1972, Harvest
Old man, take a look at my life: I’m a lot like you; I need someone to love me the whole day through. Ah, one look in my eyes and you can tell that’s true.
Categories: Family · Growing old · Ideals · Independence · Loneliness · Ordinary People · Philosophies · Reality · Simplicity
Tagged: 1972, Harvest
I want to live, I want to give: I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold.
It’s these expressions I never give that keep me searching for a heart of gold;
And I’m getting old.
[...]
I’ve been in my mind, [and] it’s such a fine line that keeps me searching for a heart of gold.
Categories: Growing old · Human tendencies · Ideals · Loneliness · Philosophies · Reality · Simplicity
Tagged: 1972, Harvest
The spreading fear of growing old contains a thousand foolish games that we play.
Categories: Growing old · Human tendencies · Reality
Tagged: 1968, Neil Young