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You've got your mother in a whirl
She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl.
Hey babe, your hair's alright.
Hey babe, let's go out tonight.
You like me, and I like it all.
We like dancing and we look divine.
You love bands when they're playing hard.
You want more and you want it fast.
--
Rebel Rebel

 

David Bowie

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Go away from my window,
Leave at your own chosen speed,
I'm not the one you want, babe,
I'm not the one you need.
You say you're looking for someone,
Who's never weak but always strong,
To protect you and defend you,
Whether you are right or wrong,
Someone to open each and every door,
But it ain't me, babe,
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're looking for, babe.

 

Bob Dylan

 

Good love is hard to find.
You got lucky, babe.
You got lucky, babe, when I found you.

 

Tom Petty

 

I know it's late, I know you're weary
I know your plans don't include me
Still here we are, both of us lonely
Longing for shelter from all that we see
Why should we worry, no one will care girl
Look at the stars so far away
We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow?
We've got tonight babe,
Why don't you stay?

 

Bob Seger

 

I want to say to you before the Lord, that you know no more concerning the destinies of this Church and Kingdom than a babe upon its mother's lap. You don't comprehend it...It is only a little handful of Priesthood you see here tonight, but this Church will fill North and South America—it will fill the world...It will fill the Rocky Mountains.

 

Joseph Smith

 

Love is the only bow on Life's dark cloud. It is the morning and the evening star. It shines upon the babe, and sheds its radiance on the quiet tomb. It is the mother of art, inspirer of poet, patriot and philosopher. It is the air and light of every heart — builder of every home, kindler of every fire on every hearth. It was the first to dream of immortality. It fills the world with melody — for music is the voice of love. Love is the magician, the enchanter, that changes worthless things to Joy, and makes royal kings and queens of common clay. It is the perfume of that wondrous flower, the heart, and without that sacred passion, that divine swoon, we are less than beasts; but with it, earth is heaven, and we are gods.

 

Robert G. Ingersoll