For Harrison it is clearly a great relief to have found such a partnership of [relative] equals to which he can repair [The Traveling Wilburys]… Despite making a spectacular comeback with Cloud Nine in 1987, he remains an ensemble player at heart.
Between us on the desk is a copy of the new biography on Harrison called The Quiet One, by Alan Clayson. It is wrapped in a plain white cover. Harrison has not read it. ‘This Italian guy called Red Ronnie just gave it to me,’ he says picking it up gingerly. 'I don’t know who this writer is. All he knows about me is what he’s read in the papers or heard in interviews. He doesn’t know me. There was another one last year. God knows why these people bother, to make some money I suppose, because it’s not important to history to have a stranger’s version of what my life is supposed to be. There have been far too many Beatles books and it’s depressing when you read a load of nasty things and even if you read about good things, it doesn’t serve any purpose. I expect that I’ll just leave it lying around the house and then my wife can read all the extra-marital affairs I’m supposed to have had and all the drugs I’m supposed to have taken.’
— David Sinclair, UK columnist, interviews George Harrison, c. October 1990