Quotes About Song

As I've gone along, I felt like I was discovering an aspect of my voice that I didn't know was there: an ability to interpret a song in a way that makes it more accessible.

Echo & the Bunnymen just copied 'People Are Strange,' which is cool, we made some money, thanks. But when an artist finds a new interpretation of one of your songs, that's great. It turns your head around.

I'm super-obsessed with 'Intervention.' I wrote a song about it.

It became a kind of passion. Discovering the key, unlocking the vagina's mouth, unlocking this voice, this wild song.

Love thou thy dream All base love scorning, Love thou the wind And here take warning That dreams alone can truly be, For 'tis in dream I come to thee. Ezra Pound, The Song trad. Ungaretti: Ama il tuo sogno Ama il tuo sogno Ogni inferiore amore disprezzando, Il vento ama Ed accorgiti qui Che i sogni solo possono veramente essere, Perciò in sogno a raggiungerti m'avvio.

ALBA from "Langue d'Oc" When the nightingale to his mate Sings day-long and night late My love and I keep state In bower, In flower, 'Till the watchman on the tower Cry: "Up! Thou rascal, Rise, I see the white Light And the night Flies.

2 young ladies to sing us the new liberty song readiness to be shot / versus / taxes

I'm just a notch on your bedpost but you're just a line in a song.

You can only blame your problems on the world for so long Before it all becomes the same old song

Every song is the remains of love. Every light the remains of time. A knot of time. And every sigh the remains of a cry. - Every Song

My memory is chained; captive the bird that sketches the evening in song." From Weathervane ("Veleta")

Tôi r?t yêu m?y ng??i c?ng s?n, b?i h? v?a ??u tranh ch?ng toàn c?u hóa v?a hát Qu?c t? ca

Dream Song of Thunders: Sometimes I go about pitying Myself, While I am carried by the wind Across the sky.

Dream Song: The heavens Go with me.

Steam Lodge Song of the Sun Dance Ceremony: A voice, I will send. Hear me! The land All over, A voice I am sending! Hear me! I will live!

Song for the Puberty Rite of a Girl Named Cowaka: A poor man takes the songs in his hand And drops them near the place where the sun sets. See, Cowaka, run to them and take them in your hand, And place them under the sunset.

But some nights, I must tell you, I go down there after everyone has fallen asleep. I swim back and forth in the echoing blackness. I sing a love song as well as I can, lost for a while in the home of the rain.

I to the sandy shore and seaward slope Will go, and try with murmured song to bend The cruel Galatea. My sweet hope I'll cast away--when life itself doth end.

May Love the Muses evermore invite, The Muses bring me Love! And to requite My passion may they give sweet song to me, Than which no sweeter remedy can be.

I am in need of music that would flow Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips, Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips, With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow. Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low, Of some song sung to rest the tired dead, A song to fall like water on my head, And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!

Love is born among groves and singing-birds.

And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady roof, there thou mayest rest, And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe, And all the daughters of the year shall dance! Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

May your heart always be joyful. May your song always be sung.