My feeling toward Bill [Moyers] was totally affectionate throughout. And so, I remember passing him in the office for majority leader. There was sort of an outer office where there were likely to be a secretary who greeted people and who was always on the phone, and one more desk, and at that desk sat Bill Moyers. And he would be dictating letters into a machine; he might, or he might not have had a real secretary there taking them. But sentences that–language that was eloquent and elegant. And, in the midst of the most utter confusion, everything except a swinging trapeze would be going on in that outer office, and there was Bill performing so beautifully.
….

“I always was intrigued by the fact that he was a minister, that he had been. I don’t think he ever had a church, but he had finished the course in becoming a minister and he had–I think he was ordained, and he was a Baptist. And that always clung, although he–I think it’s true to say that he wound up in an extremely intellectual milieu, which is not the natural habitat of many Southern Baptists.

So Bill was always searching, I think. And I think it was sort of a lifelong, "I love you. No, I don’t,” relation between him and Lyndon, and I think perhaps it was more needful on Lyndon’s part than it was on his. My feeling is totally affectionate.