Quotes About Song

I was studying Francis of Assisi for quite some time, when Benedict was still the pope. And I was studying it for a song that I did for my last album, 'Banga.'

My style is simple. It is out and out melody.

I wanted to write a song about war and that classic 'We want you' recruitment style from the point of view of the recruiter.

I think if you're writing from the heart, very often, the subject matter will adjust as you age... but you try to write the best song you can possibly write. For us, we have the same basic elements that make up the America sound.

When you're trying to do a traditional book musical like 'Book of Mormon,' it's always nice to have characters that could very naturally break into song, and its good to pick a subject matter that allows that to happen in a way that doesn't disarm the audience.

My aim is for every song to have a purpose - for you to be able to say, 'This song is about this.' But love and heartbreak are some of the most abstract subjects.

The divergence of songs in the new population away from those in the progenitor population would only be prevented if these processes were balanced by repeated immigration and subsequent breeding: song flow.

Even a song on the radio that completely lacks substance is there for a reason. Sometimes, people need a break from cold reality; the song that you really don't have to put that much thought power into can be just as entertaining as something that might take you on a three- or four-minute cruise through the depth of reality.

Birds have bills too, and they keep on singing

bowed, and said; "Recite ye this heroic song In tranquil shades where

Praise to Válmíki,2bird of charming song,3 Who mounts

Praise to Válmíki,2bird of charming song,3 Who mounts on Poesy's sublimest spray, And sweetly sings with accent clear and strong Ráma, aye Ráma, in his deathless lay.

The idea of a soulmate is beautiful and very romantic to talk about it in a movie or a song, but in reality, I find it scary.

Sing little box Don't let sleep overtake you The world's awake within you In your four-sided emptiness We turn distance into nearness Forgetfulness into memory Don't let your nails come loose For the very first time We watch sights beyond this world Through your keyhole Turn your key in our mouths Swallow words and numbers Out of your song Don't let your lid fly open Your bottom drop Sing little box

a winged pipe flies around the streaks of lightning in a vast coil with a song it tries to lure them somewhere is it back to the clouds or to another lovier heaven or to earth amongst men it become entangled in the tongues of flame both song and wings are on fire and its shadow on the gates of heaven doesnt it know some other song with this it will only enrage the lightning streaks and wont lure them anyway

Walk on a rainbow trail; walk on a trail of song, and all about you will be beauty. There is a way out of every dark mist, over a rainbow trail.

Blessed be the Lord for the beauty of summer and spring, for the air, the water, the verdure, and the song of birds.

O brave poets, keep back nothing; Nor mix falsehood with the whole! Look up Godward! speak the truth in Worthy song from earnest soul! Hold, in high poetic duty, Truest Truth the fairest Beauty.

Great Spirit, When we face the sunset when we come singing the last song, may it be without shame, singing 'it is finished in beauty, it is finished in beauty!'

None of Your Business.' It's the only Salt-N-Pepa song that I regret.

I listen to Glee songs a lot. I like their rendition of "Bust the Window Out Your Car."

A terrible, painful sadness clutched at Ellen. More than ever before, she felt that her life—the best part of it, at least, the part that was fresh and fun—was behind her. Recognizing the sensation made her feel guilty, for she read it as proof that she was an unsatisfactory mother, an unsatisfied wife. She hated her life, and hated herself for hating it. She thought of a line from a song Billy played on the stereo: "I'd trade all my tomorrows for a single yesterday.

The Song of the Germans

The Yirkalla aborigines of Arnhem Land in Australia hear sacred song words in the babbling of babies. To them, songs are never composed but only discovered: all songs exist already.