Workin' 9 to 5, what a way to make a livin' Barely gettin' by, it's all takin' and no givin' They just use your mind and you never get the credit It'… - Dolly Parton

If you want to make it in this town,” the woman went on, “being talented is just one little tiny part of the battle. Fearlessness is mandatory. And shamelessness sure as hell don’t hurt.

I try to be a better me. I don't try to compete with anybody else, I'm not really that aware of what other people are doing, I'm not that interested in other people's business. I got to be my best self. I got to be me. Don't be a coward. Know who you are. Do what you do, don't be so easily influenced by other people, don't be insecure about it. You know who you are. If you don't, you need to find out, pretty soon, you can't live your whole life trying to please other people. And so I would just say go for it. Of course, I try to improve every day. If there's a better outfit, I want to wear it. If there's a better song I want to write it. If there's a better record I want to record it. I want to continue to try to be as good as I can at all my abilities. I want to make the most of them, if I want to do better movies, and I come up with new ideas all the time.

Carl finally came home and would come to see me almost every night, usually staying to the wee hours. He was working with his father in his asphalt-paving business in South Nashville and I was living in Madison, Tennessee. Between that and the time he spent with me, he wasn’t getting any sleep at all. Finally, one day he said, quite matter-of-factly, “You’re either gonna have to move to the other side of town or we’re gonna have to get married.” That, to Carl, was a proposal. People always want to know how he asked me to marry him, and I always have to say, “He didn’t exactly ask.” Part of me was thrilled that he wanted to marry me, but another part was a little taken aback. That must have been the strongest part because that was the one that answered.
“You never have even said you loved me.”
“Hell, you know I love you,” was Carl’s answer.
I attribute this to that same kind of unspoken communication that I explained when describing life with my daddy. It is one of the Parton/Dean rules of conduct I have become a one-woman committee to abolish. Always at holidays or other family gatherings, people would hug and say good-bye, but they would never say “I love you.” Sure, I know that the love is there, but dammit, I want to hear it! I was the first one in my family, that I know of, to ever tell other family members that I loved them.
One day, after I had been living away from home for many years, I was saying good-bye to Daddy when I told him, “I love you.” He responded in the usual nonverbal, look-at-the-ground Parton way, and I just couldn’t stand it anymore.
I took his head between my hands and made him look me right in the eye. “You tell me you love me,” I demanded.
With no small amount of embarrassment he said, “Aww, you know I love you’uns” (a mountain word meaning more than one).
“Not you’uns!” I kept on. “This has got nothing to do with Cassie or Bobby or anybody else. I want to know if you” — I emphasized the word by poking my finger into his chest — “love me,”