A Quote by E. Y. Harburg

Follow the yellow brick road. — © E. Y. Harburg
Follow the yellow brick road.
I just go with the flow, I follow the yellow brick road. I don't know where it's going to lead me, but I follow it.
Kanan is a big road through the Santa Monica Mountains. Between mid-March and mid-April, when you get over to the western side of the mountains, it's populated by Spanish broom - this beautiful, yellow, flowering weed that smells the way I imagine it smells along the Yellow Brick Road.
The way to Everest is not a Yellow Brick Road.
The road to the City of Emeralds is paved with yellow brick.
Your dreams are ballbusters; they're not the yellow brick road.
How lonely it is going to be now on the Yellow Brick Road.
I'd rather drive the yellow brick road, you wouldn't happen to know of a rental car place around.
Talk about the flag or drugs or crime (never about race or class or justice) and follow the yellow brick road to the wonderful land of consensus. In place of honest argument among consenting adults the politicians substitute a lullaby for frightened children: the pretense that conflict doesn't really exist, that we have achieved the blessed state in which we no longer need politics.
Too many people think life is a yellow brick road. We learned that hardships make you better and that you have to adapt to your surroundings. And then you understand.
My first albums as a little kid were Elton John's 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,' Simon and Garfunkel's 'Greatest Hits' - and 'Workingman's Dead.' How many other people still listen to the music they liked at age 12?
Fame stole my yellow. Yellow is the color you get when you're real and brutally honest. Yellow is with my kids[...]The bundle of bright yellow warming my core, formerly frozen and uninhabitable[...]They got yellow from me, and I felt yellow giving it to them and it was all good[...]So, why am I leaving my show? It took my yellow. I wanted it back. Without it I can't live. The gray kills me.
We always know which is the best road to follow, but we follow only the road that we have become accustomed to.
I remember myself, age five, sitting on a porch overlooking a very muddy road. The day was rainy. I was wearing rubber boots, yellow - no, not yellow, green - and for all I know, I'm still there.
You say to a brick, 'What do you want, brick?' And brick says to you, 'I like an arch.' And you say to brick, 'Look, I want one, too, but arches are expensive and I can use a concrete lintel.' And then you say: 'What do you think of that, brick?' Brick says: 'I like an arch.'
We pave the sunlit path toward justice together, brick by brick. This is my brick.
Yellow wakes me up in the morning. Yellow gets me on the bike every day. Yellow has taught me the true meaning of sacrifice. Yellow makes me suffer. Yellow is the reason I'm here.
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