Quotes About Lyre

Orpheus struck dumb with hindsight.

23Whenever the [evil] spirit of God came upon Saul, David would take the lyre and play it;a Saul would find relief and feel better, and the evil spirit would leave him.

All the world is made of music. We are all strings on a lyre. We resonate. We sing together.

I took my lyre and said: come now, my heavenly tortoise shell: become a speaking instrument.

Nothing which does not transport is poetry. The lyre is a winged instrument.

PHOEBUS APOLLO The son of Zeus and Leto (Latona), born in the little island of Delos. He has been called "the most Greek of all the gods." He is a beautiful figure in Greek poetry, the master musician who delights Olympus as he plays on his golden lyre;

Orpheus with his lute made trees,And the mountain-tops that freeze,Bow themselves, when he did sing.

Fire he sang, that trees fear, and I, a tree, rejoiced in its flames. New buds broke forth from me though it was full summer. As though his lyre (now I knew its name) were both frost and fire, its chords flamed up to the crown of me. I was seed again. I was fern in the swamp. I was coal. ("A Tree Telling of Orpheus")

I was born for the peaceful life, for rural quiet: the lyre's voice in the wild is more resounding, creative dreams are more alive. To harmless leisures consecrated, I wander by a wasteful lake and far niente is my rule. By every morn I am awakened unto sweet mollitude and freedom; little I read, a lot I sleep, fugitive fame do not pursue. Was it not thus in former years, that I spent in inaction, in the shade, my happiest days?

55 But I was born for peaceful roaming, For country calm and lack of strife; My lyre sings! And in the gloaming My fertile fancies spring to life. I give myself to harmless pleasures And far niente rules my leisures: Each morning early I'm awake To wander by the lonely lake Or seek some other sweet employment: I read a little, often sleep, For fleeting fame I do not weep. And was it not in past enjoyment Of shaded, idle times like this, I spent my days of deepest bliss?

Conversation may be compared to a lyre with seven chords - philosophy, art, poetry, love, scandal, and the weather.

If I could dwellWhere IsrafelHath dwelt, and he where I,He might not sing so wildly wellA mortal melody,While a bolder note than this might swellFrom my lyre within the sky.

Marius, of course, Marius! And you look not one day older than when I saw you in my girlhood. Your face is radiant, and your eyes, how beautiful are your eyes. I would sing these praises to the accompaniment of a lyre if I could.

With vampiric dexterity I slipped into shadowy gardens and listened at the open doorways of the dimly lighted villas as those inside talked softly over dinner or listened to the delicate music of a young boy accompanying himself with a lyre.

The shadow had followed behind them, clinging to their steps; and the two children little suspected its presence when they at last sat down, trustingly, under the mighty protection of Apollo, who, with a great bronze gesture, lifted his huge lyre to the heart of a crimson sky.

A deed your lovely face if not, winter and no pain I bid you, Abanthis, take up the lyre and sing of Gongyla as again desire floats around you the beautiful. When you saw her dress it excited you. I'm happy. The Kypros-born once blamed me for praying this word: I want

Come holy lyre speak to me and become a voice!

In pity and trembling old age now covers my flesh. Yet there is chasing and floating after a young woman. Pick up your lyre and sing to us of one with roses on her robe, especially wandering

In love, putting aside all consideration of the soul, the heart of a woman is like a lyre which does not reveal its secret, excepting to him who is a skillful player.

How many actors could make fifty dollars a week were all forms of amusement barred by edict? Harpo Marx? He could strum his lyre on a ferry boat and pass the hat.

Conversation may be compared to a lyre with seven chords-philosophy, art, poetry, love, scandal, and the weather.

The island of Lesbos has given many gifts to the world—Lesbian wine and Lesbian verse, the seven-stringed lyre, and the poems of Sappho; but of all its products the latest was assuredly the most questionable, for the last great Lesbians were the brothers Barbarossa.

Warriors! and where are warriors found, If not on martial Britain's ground? And who, when waked with note of fire, Love more than they the British lyre?

And he won her freedom by playing beautiful music,' Roland added. 'I think he played a lute. Or maybe it was a lyre.' 'Ach, weel, that'll suit us fine,' said Daft Wullie. 'We're experts at lootin' an' then lyin' aboot it.