Quotes from Stephen Sondheim

Because in all of the whole human race Mrs. Lovett, there are two kinds of men and only two There's the one staying put in his proper place And the one with his foot in the other one's face

Stop worrying where you're going. Move on. If you can know where you're going, you've gone. Just keep moving on.

It takes almost as much imagination to justify what you write as it does to write it.

We lose things. And then we choose things. And there are Louis's And there are Georges- Well, Louis's And George.

Music is a foreign language which everyone knows but only musicians can speak.

Automobile in America, Chromium steel in America, Wire-spoke wheel in America, Very big deal in America! Immigrant goes to America, Many hellos in America, Nobody knows in America, Puerto Rico's in America! I like the shores of America! Comfort is yours in America! Knobs on the doors in America! Wall-to-wall floors in America!

I have successfully avoided enjoying opera all my life. -quoted in Entertainment Weeky, http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20548...

Lots of madmen have had their say But only for a day.

Sing out, Louise!

Into the Woods, then Out of the Woods..and home before dark!

Stop worrying where you're going Move on If you can know where you're going You've gone Just keep moving on I chose, and my world was shaken So what? The choice may have been mistaken The choosing was not You have to move on

Musicals continue to be the only art form, popular or otherwise, that is publically criticized by illiterates.

Someone tell the story, Someone sing the song. Every now and then the country Goes a little wrong. Every now and then A madman's bound to come along. Doesn't stop the story Story's pretty strong.

Is it always "or"? Is it never "and"?

A matinee, a Pinter play, Perhaps a piece of Mahler's.

And when the woman that you wanted goes, You can say to yourself, "Well, I give what I give." But the woman who won't wait for you knows That, however you live, There's a part of you always standing by, Mapping out the sky, Finishing a hat . . .

Take me to a world where I can be alive

Look, I made a hat... Where there never was a hat

I remember days Or at least I try But as years go by They're sort of haze And the bluest ink Isn't really sky And at times I think I would gladly die For a day of sky

Art is edited truth — edited to give it shape, rhythm, speed and punch. I've quoted the Communist dictum before: "If it isn't art, it isn't propaganda." Art is skill in the service of passion.

In view of her penchant for something romantic DeSade is too trenchant and Dickens too frantic and Stendahl would ruin the plan of attack as there isn't much blue in THE RED AND THE BLACK. DeMaupassant's candor would cause her dismay The Brontes are grander But not very gay Her taste is much blander I'm sorry to say But is Hans Christian Andersen ever risque?

Daydreams may be the main source of creativity, but night dreams are the main source of solving the problems engendered by the daydreams.

Everybody faces a blank piece of paper, no matter what they've written or painted or composed before. I can't imagine approaching every single new project without doubt.

You may know what you need, but to get what you want, better see that you keep what you have.