“Do I need to be liked? Absolutely not. I like to be liked. I enjoy being liked. I have to be liked. But it’s not like a compulsive need to be liked. Like my need to be praised.”
“Do I need to be liked? Absolutely not. I like to be liked. I enjoy being liked. I have to be liked. But it’s not like a compulsive need to be liked. Like my need to be praised.”
Never gonna be over the tragically beautiful irony in George’s last words to Ringo —“want me to come with you?”
George, who was the first to propose Ringo as their new drummer. George, who adamantly insisted they had to make Ringo a Beatle. George, who moved heaven and earth to make sure Ringo fit in perfectly —who took a punch to the eye for him. George, who refused to play Australia if Ringo wasn’t there and flew across the world to visit him in the hospital mere days later. George, who shared a flat with Ringo in London. George, who covered Ringo’s drum kit with flowers to welcome him back after he temporarily quit the band. George, who helped Ringo compose his most famous Beatle song —and continued helping him compose after the Beatles were over.
George, who wrote Ringo a song in which he said he’d play his guitar with him till he dropped dead.
The last thing Ringo ever heard George say was literally the perfect analogy of their relationship. George left, but not without first assuring Ringo that he’d still be willing to go with him wherever he went.
sometimes i walk alone at night when everybody else is sleeping. i think of him and then i’m happy with the company i’m keeping. the city goes to bed and icanliveinsidemyhead.
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