A Quote by Michael Palin

Night falls over Machu Picchu to the sound of Abba's 'Dancing Queen'. — © Michael Palin
Night falls over Machu Picchu to the sound of Abba's 'Dancing Queen'.
All man must live in Machu Picchu for some time! Over there, you will be closer to the universe and you will realise how trivial you are in this chaotic cosmos. Science is the only power which will make you bigger and significant in this universe!
I can't dance to save my life, really - proper, proper dad dancing - but I was once at a wrap party for a show, and at the end of the night, they still hadn't played 'Dancing Queen'. So we extended the wrap party for 40 minutes and played 'Dancing Queen' 11 times in a row.
The critics are like tourists who return from a trip saying they've "done" Machu Picchu: "Okay, we've done magical realism," so now we can throw it out.
My life is as good as an Abba song. It’s as good as Dancing Queen.
I did the Kilimanjaro climb a few years ago, then the six-day trek to Machu Picchu in Peru so this bike ride to raise money for Great Ormond Street seemed like the next big challenge.
When I was in my twenties and just so sexually prolific, the first time I went to Machu Picchu, this guy, a spiritual teacher, says to me, "When you make love, you must be making love." I thought that was the greatest advice I had ever heard.
Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it’s heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes. Wool blanket.
I feel best in a ragged pair of red Honda Motorcycle pants. I have taken them to Machu Picchu, to the Knob Creek Machine Gun festival, and backstage to Cirque du Soleil - just the right touch to make you untouchable. No one quite dares to throw you out, because perhaps you are a world class motocross racer.
When ABBA broke up, I assumed our music would fall into oblivion so in the early 90's with BJRN AGAIN becoming popular and when U2 invited Benny and I on stage to sing Dancing Queen, I just assumed we were being sent up. But now I see they were paying tribute to us
I was so tired once 'Abba' was over and just wanted to be calm and with my children. I married, was in 'Abba,' had my children, divorced, all in ten years. I wonder how I managed it, but I was young.
It’s an irritating reality that many places and events defy description. Angkor Wat and Machu Picchu, for instance, seem to demand silence, like a love affair you can never talk about. For a while after, you fumble for words, trying vainly to assemble a private narrative, an explanation, a comfortable way to frame where you’ve been and whats happened. In the end, you’re just happy you were there - with your eyes open - and lived to see it.
I grew up on Queen, ABBA and at the same time, Nityasree.
The music of ABBA is not that happy. It might sound happy, in some strange way, but deep within, it's not happy music. It has that Nordic melancholic feeling to it. What fools you is the girls' voices. You know, I do think that is one of the secrets about ABBA. Even when we were really quite sad, we always sounded jubilant.
The Americans only like things they can label, even if it kills them. Think of those poor Latin American writers. Some of them are very good. But the "magical realism" label has absolutely ruined them. The critics are like tourists who return from a trip saying they've "done" Machu Picchu: "Okay, we've done magical realism," so now we can throw it out.
I can see lights in the distance trembling in the dark cloak of night Candles and lanterns are dancing, dancing a waltz on All Souls Night.
I sound like a chain-smoking drag queen after a hard night of singing 'Tie a Yellow Ribbon'.
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