Street Performer Quotes

It's definitely been a long, long... long, long, long, long, long journey since I was selling burnt CD's out of my backpack in downtown Oakland.

Maybe if you see me begging on the streets, you might find me doing The Stone Roses the next day.

Any eyes on me - a late-night street sweeper, some dude texting in his parked car, the homeless guy talking to himself - make me feel uncomfortable when I skate. Everyone expects me to do certain things.

A lean, loose-jointed Negro had commenced plunking a guitar beside me while I slept. His clothes were rags; his feet peeped out of his shoes. His face had on it some of the sadness of the ages. As he played, he pressed a knife on the strings of the guitar in a manner popularized by Hawaiian guitarists who used steel bars. The effect was unforgettable.

When I was little, I had concerts on the subway, and old ladies came up to me like, 'You are so good!'

It's cliche, but everybody says, 'We're all one song away,' and it's so true. The difference between me and the guy down the street busking with his guitar case open is just one song.

I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back I play for keeps, 'cause I might not make it back; I been everywhere, and I'm standing tall I've seen a million faces an I've rocked them all.

At Columbus Circle, a juggler wearing a trench cloak and top hat, who is usually at this location afternoons and who calls himself Stretch Man, performs in front of a small, uninterested crowd; though I smell prey, and he seems worthy of my wrath, I move on in search of a less dorky target. Though if he'd been a mime, odds are he'd already be dead.

I'd stand on the side of the road when I was just a little girl singing on trash cans.

I make faces for cash and chicken.

I still have the mentality of a street musician, because I was one for five years. Every opportunity that comes my way, I feel like, 'Absolutely, let's do this.' Sometimes, it's to my detriment. But I don't think you become successful by not saying yes to opportunities.

I'm a complete and utter busker.

I used to be a street singer in San Francisco.

I'm a one-man band!

When I was a street performer, before I had any songs of my own that anybody would stop and put in money for, I would always be doing covers. Even with covers, people wouldn't stop in the beginning.

I was just picked from the streets to do some acting, and that's how I got started.

I was a street performer for two years.

Once you been performing on the streets you can conquer any venue.

I'm just an ordinary, walking-down-the-street, mother of two children who sings for her supper.

I don't busk any more because it's gotten too dangerous.

I was just a folk singer. I cut my teeth on the streets, you know.

My mother wasn't rich, and I never seen my father. I was a street performer. I've been shot. And now I'm known around the world, and I've touched a lot of people with my music. That's one of the great testimonies that's gonna go down in history.

I did pretty well busking. I would play two to eight hours a day, and I could make two or three hundred an hour.

I learned to play the git-tar from an old colored man in the streets of Montgomery. He was named Tetot, and he played in a colored street band.

I'd stand on the side of the road when I was just a little girl singing on trash cans. People would roll down their windows saying, 'Isn't she cute'. I had a vivid imagination. I always pretended it was some big stage.