Scratch a Jew and you'll find a Wailing Wall.
You know, when I'm playing, I think of myself in front of the Wailing Wall with a saxophone in my hands, and I'm davening, I'm really telling it to the Wall.
The thing that brings people to wail at a wall, or face Mecca, or to go to church, is a search for that feeling of purity.
So I'm at the wailing wall, standing there like a moron, with my harpoon.
Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and numbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me - I am happy.
I once had a rose named after me and I was very flattered. But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalogue: no good in a bed, but fine up against a wall.