Quotes About Song

Sing to me in the language of leviathan, that I may know his name.

A fool sings what he will, the master told his anxious princess, "You must not take his word to heart. On the morrow he may remember another song and this one will never be heard again.

I know a song about him. But I thought he lived a hundred years ago. We all did. Once I was as young as you.

Be brave, she told herself. Be brave, like a lady in a song.

They are still unblooded, Catelyn thought as she watched Lord Bryce goad Ser Robar into juggling a brace of daggers. It is all a game to them still, a tourney writ large, and all they see is the chance for glory and honor and spoils. They are boys drunk on song and story, and like all boys, they think themselves immortal.

The music from the castles was louder here. The sound of the drums and horns rolled across the camp. The musicians in the nearer castle were playing a different song than the ones in the castle on the far bank, though, so it sounded more like a battle than a song. "They're not very good," Arya observed.

I read bells. Not the sound of bells, no, no, but the feel of bells, the emotion of bells, the bright clanging joy, the hooting-shouting-ringing loudness, the song of the Joined, the togetherness and the sharing of it all.

Just because a man can sing about battles doesn't mean he's fit to fight one.

Just this once, in the very heart of the busiest of cities, everyone was perfectly content not to move and hardly to breathe. And for those few minutes, while the song lasted, Times Square was still as a meadow at evening, with the sun streaming in on the people there and the wind moving among them as if they were only tall blades of grass.

I love the song 'El Rey.' And for years, I never knew what the song was totally about. It was something new for me. I'd never sung a song in Spanish before. Then I got the translation and saw what a really cool song it was.

It was the hottest hour of the day when even the cicadas seem to slow down and falter occasionally in their song. The black ants moved busily across the cloth, gathering the crumbs of our food.

the bobbin of wool would rise and fall, twisting like a top, her fingers busy unravelling and plucking, and her drooping mouth with its hedge of broken and discoloured teeth wide open as she sang, loudly and harshly, but with great vigour. It was from Agathi that I learned some of the most beautiful and haunting of the peasant songs.

Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

Merry have we met, and merry have we been; Merry let us part, and merry meet again; With our merry sing-song, happy gay, and free, With a merry ding-dong, happy let us be!

One man with a dream, at pleasure, Shall go forth and conquer a crown, And three with a new song's measure, Can trample an empire down.

Hark! that's the nightingale, Telling the self-same tale Her song told when this ancient earth was young: So echoes answered when her song was sung In the first wooded vale.

Use what talents you have; the woods would have little music if no birds sang their song except those who sang best.

And so make life, death and that vast forever One grand, sweet song.

Sav sjaj što ga Bog svijetom propisa plavi o?i moje. Vezani su ?ilimi od sunca i sjenka. Ognjen miris ima vino života. Srce mi pod grlom bije. Za dug život i veliku radost! Putujte i brodite, ne ostanite željni burna mora, ni polja, ni gustih šuma! Milo je Bogu da vas vidi gdje vam je život pjesma i ples! Za žive i za one koji su mladi!

best clips run on the biggest screen you can find, and you singing "My Always."'" "Oh, honey." "I sang it—by his request—at our wedding. And I'm going to do it, Sylvie." Her eyes filled, but the tears didn't fall. "I'm going to find it in myself to give him that. Because he is. He's my always." Sylvie sat on the edge of the lounger, took her hand. "I know some of this is repetitive

Girls chattering is like birds." He fluttered his fingers at his ears. "You hear only the notes.

kalbos prigimtis yra daina, o dainos prigimtis - poreikis pripildyti gars? perd?m erdvi?, apytušt? žmogaus siel?.

Too bad the freedom seemed like a prison. As his boots hit the mosaic floor at the bottom of the stairs, John Mellencamp's old-school, bic-lighter anthem echoed in his head-and though he'd always like the song okay, he'd never truly understood what it meant. Kind of wished that were still the case. Life goes on...long after the thrill of living is gone...

In the far corner, a tenor began to sing, Zsadist's crystal-clear voice sailing up toward the warrior paintings on the ceiling far, far above them all. At first John didn't know what the song was...although if he'd been asked what his name was, he would have said Santa Claus, or Luther Vandross, or Teddy Roosevelt. Maybe even Joan Collins.