Elton John Quotes

And it really taught me something important. Sometimes, you just have to step up to the plate, even if the plate is miles outside your comfort zone. It’s like going deep inside yourself, forgetting about whatever emotions you may have and thinking: no, I’m a performer. This is what I do. Get on with it.

the gramophone on them. They seemed like magical objects; the fact that you put a needle on them and sound mysteriously came out amazed me.

I’ve played pianos, I’ve jumped on pianos, I’ve fallen off pianos and I’ve pushed a piano into the crowd, hit a member of the audience with it and spent the rest of the night frantically apologizing to them.

Island girl,
What you wanting with the white man's world?
Island girl,
Black boy want you in his island world.
He want to take you from the racket boss,
He want to save you but the cause is lost.

And thank God, because the world needed changing. I grew up in fifties Britain and, before Elvis, before rock and roll, fifties Britain was a pretty grim place. I didn’t mind living in Pinner – I’ve never been one of those rock stars who was motivated by a burning desire to escape the suburbs, I quite liked it there – but the whole country was in a bad place. It was furtive and fearful and judgemental. It was a world of people peeping around their curtains with sour expressions, of girls being sent away because they’d Got Into Trouble. When I think of fifties Britain, I think of sitting on the stairs of our house, listening to my mum’s brother, Uncle Reg, trying to talk her out of getting divorced from my dad: ‘You can’t get divorced! What will people think?’ At one point, I distinctly remember him using the phrase ‘what will the neighbours say?’ It

And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind,
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in.
And I would have liked to have known you,
But I was just a kid.
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did.

Mum was never one of life’s tactile, nurturing, come-here-and-give-me-a-hug mothers, and there was a mean streak to her that went beyond just being prone to bad moods, or a victim of the Dwight Family Temper, into something else entirely, something I didn’t like to think about too deeply, because it frightened me. She seemed to actively enjoy picking fights, and not just with me: there wasn’t a member of the family she didn’t fall out badly with over the years. And yet there had been times when she was supportive, and there were times, at the start of my career, when she was really good fun. That’s how people who knew her in the early seventies remembered her to me after she died: oh, your mum was such a laugh.

He must have been a gardener that cared a lot Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop. But now it all looks strange, it's funny how one insect Can damage so much grain.

For this dark and lonely room
Projects a shadow cast in gloom.
And my eyes are mirrors
Of the world outside.
Thinking of the way
That the wind can turn the tide.
And these shadows turn
From purple into grey.

When we toured America, all the legendary groupies from that era – the Plaster Casters and Sweet Connie from Little Rock – would turn up backstage, to the evident delight of the band and road crew. I’d think, ‘Hang on, what are you doing here? Surely you’re not here for me? Surely someone’s told you? And even if they haven’t, I’ve just been carried onstage by a bodybuilder, while wearing half the world’s supply of diamanté, sequins and marabou feathers – does that not suggest anything to you?

And that was the moment my mother turned up, in character as a raving sociopath.

AIDS might as well stand for “Appalling Indifference to the Disenfranchised in Society.

I never realised the passing hours of evening showers.
A slip noose hanging in my darkest dreams,
I'm strangled by your haunted social scene.
Just a pawn out-played by a dominating queen.
It's four o'clock in the morning,
Damn it listen to me good.
I'm sleeping with myself tonight,
Saved in time, thank God my music's still alive.

And George Michael really didn’t want to know. I nagged at him because I was worried and because mutual friends kept contacting me, asking if I could do something. He wrote an open letter to Heat magazine, most of which was concerned with telling me, at considerable length, to fuck off and mind my own business

In the instant that you love someone,
In the second that the hammer hits,
Reality runs up your spine,
And the pieces finally fit.