Quotes About Song

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do noble things, not dream them, all day long: And so make life, death, and that vast for-ever One grand, sweet song.

And what was the song which she sang? Ah, my little man, I am too old to sing that song, and you too young to understand it.

A song is a light we shine on others, not a light we shine on us.

do know this—this right here is just prelude. Dress rehearsal. The intro. One of these days each one of us is going to get called up and given the chance to join our voices in a song we've never heard, yet one we've known our whole lives.

I do know this—this right here is just prelude. Dress rehearsal. The intro. One of these days each one of us is going to get called up and given the chance to join our voices in a song we've never heard, yet one we've known our whole lives.

Spotlight the song and give it back to people. Put it in their mouths. Songs don't belong to us. A song is a light we shine on others, not a light we shine on us.

shot an arrow into the air, it fell to earth, I knew not where; for so swiftly it flew, the sight could not follow in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, it fell to earth I knew not where; for who has sight so keen and strong, that it can follow the flight of a song? Long, long afterward, in an oak, I found the arrow still unbroke, and the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.

A cicada whines, his voice Starting to drown through the rainy world, No ripple of wind, no sound but his song of black wings, No song but the song of his black wings. Such emptiness at the heart, such emptiness at the heart of being

I've got a woman. A crazy woman." "Sounds like the start of a country song to me," I said.

That sound . . . that sound, it came from his mouth. It was the song of something dying. Something that never did live.

If stars were notes upon a musical sky the night what a song of beauty!

The trees are whispering to me, reminding me of my roots, and my reach... shhhhhh... can you hear them? Selflessly sharing their subtle song.

...the unicorn is noble, He knows his gentle birth, He knows that God has chosen him Above all beasts of earth.

Here's to the man who labors and does it with a song. He stimulates his neighbors and helps the world along.

Without birds, where would we have learned that there can be song in the heart?

This was the first time that he has ever looked into the labyrinth of the human soul. He was very far from understanding what he saw. But what was of more value, he felt and suffered with her. In years that were yet to come, he relived this memory in song, in the most beautiful song this world has known. For the understanding of the soul's defencelessness, of the conflict between the two poles, is not the source of the greatest song. The source of the greatest song is sympathy.

When the bird of the heart begins to sing, too often will reason stop up her ears.

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do!I'm half crazy, all for the love of you!It won't be a stylish marriage,I can't afford a carriage,But you'll look sweet upon the seatOf a bicycle built for two!

Forgetfulness is like a song That, freed from beat and measure, wanders. Forgetfulness is like a bird whose wings are reconciled, Outspread and motionless, -- A bird that coasts the wind unwearyingly. Forgetfulness is rain at night, Or an old house in a forest, -- or a child. Forgetfulness is white, -- white as a blasted tree, And it may stun the sybil into prophecy, Or bury the Gods. I can remember much forgetfulness.

The siren of the springs of guilty song— Let us take her on the incandescent wax Striated with nuances, nervosities That we are heir to

Love is the determined singing of a song whether it makes you feel bad or not.

Somewhere, a sparrow is singing in B minor.

Grief is a pilgrimage, a long song, a poem that is never quite finished.

than picking a song. "Aren't you excited to try out?" I ask her. But before she can answer, Mr. Knight tells everyone