You've got to appreciate the things that come from the art of the Negro and from the heart of the man farthest down.
Whenever I heard the song of a bird and the answering call of its mate, I could visualize the notes in scale, all built up within my consciousness as a natural symphony.
The blues - the sound of a sinner on revival day.
Setting my mind on a musical instrument was like falling in love. All the world seemed bright and changed.
Nature was my kindergarten.
I knew the whistle of each of the river boats on the Tennessee.
