Song Quotes - Page 5

She loves him sobut he didn't stay.The wind can't blowthis storm away.

Loving a man shouldn't have to be this rough

If you hear a song that makes you cry and you don’t want to cry anymore, you don’t listen to that song anymore. But you can’t get away from yourself. You can’t decide not to see yourself anymore. You can’t decide to turn off the noise in you head.

If you are kind enough today, history will sing your song and be kind to you.

Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back."-Plato

But what if you're wrong?What if there's more?What if there's hope you never dreamed of hoping for?What if you jump?And just close your eyes?What if the arms that catch you, catch you by surprise?What if He's more than enough?What if it's love?

The houses have been condemned on Memory LaneI’m tired of this struggle that leaves everything the sameI’ve tried so hard to make it workthat I’m dying insideWell, you can take my pastBut you can’t have my tomorrowPromises that remain promises are useless and they’re cheapI wish I could put a price on words so I could make them keepI put so much faith in youI lost all my faith in meWell, you can take my pastBut you can’t have my tomorrowI’m giving up on giving upI can’t leave it all to prayer‘Cause the first step in getting betteris knowing what’s not thereYou said you’d make it betterand that just makes it worseWell, you can take my pastBut you can’t have my tomorrowYes, I want my life to lastSo you can’t have my tomorrowNo, you can’t have my tomorrow

Make your book of life a musical. Never abandon obligations, but have fun leaving behind a colorful legacy. Never allow anybody to be the composer of your own destiny. Take control of your life, and never allow limitations implanted by society tell you how your music is supposed to sound — or how your book is supposed to be written.

I drew a chair up beside her and sang. All I do is dream of you the whole night through . . . It was a horrible rendition, and I quite enjoyed attempting it, setting the notes free from the song as each one went farther and farther astray.

I've tried that love thing for the last time. My heart says no, no! Nobody's supposed to be here, but you came along and changed my mind

You all have a gift. It's free. It's the gift of song.

If I had the knackI'd sing likeCherry flakes falling

Her happiness floated like waves of ocean along the coast of her life. She found lyrics of her life in his arms but she never sung her song.

I knew that my husband was a song that I had forgotten the words to and I was a fuzzy photograph of someone he used to love.

I once had a dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events some of those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken.But I didn't really mind, because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.

Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without: It was his own grief turned magically to song..

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

There's always a siren, singing you to shipwreck. Some of us may be more susceptible than others are, but there's always a siren. It may be with us all our lives, or it may be many years or decades before we find it or it finds us. But when it does find us, if we're lucky we're Odysseus tied up to the ship's mast, hearing the song with perfect clarity, but ferried to safety by a crew whose ears have been plugged with beeswax. If we're not at all lucky, we're another sort of sailor stepping off the deck to drown in the sea.

Everything changes, it all stays the same,Everyone guilty, no one to blame,Every way out, brings you back to the start,Everyone dies to break somebody's heart...

And then the great music of which the world is made took him over, beyond thought, beyond control until he heard her cry his name and they fell together off the edge of the world.

How could we be sorrow, if there is a song?

The Song of the Winged Ones is a song of celebration, written as though the singer were standing on the Dragon Isle watching the dragons flying in the sun. The words are full of wonder at the beauty of the creatures; and there is a curious pause in the middle of one of the stanzas near the end, where the singer waits a full four measures in silence for those who listen to hear the music of distant dragon wings. It seldom fails to bring echoes of something beyond the silence, and is almost never performed because many bards fear it.I love it.

Life is a song made of the musical rhythm of the body, words of the mind and the melodious silence of the soul.

The primary purpose of prayer is not to make requests. The primary purpose is to praise, to sing, to chant. Because the essence of prayer is a song, and man cannot live without a song. Prayer may not save us. But prayer may make us worthy of being saved.

Every song may be someone's personal implement of torture.

For I am you and you are I.

Then one day I found my head when I wasn't even trying.

Everywhere I go, your beauty spills into my day. The trees were never this verdant. The birdsong never this sweet.

If life throws you a few bad notes, don't let them interrupt your song.

Your heart plays a song like a broken music box, but nothing ever sounded quite so beautiful to me. Together, in the dance of wounded-wing swans we’ll rise above the ruins, melting into the golden light.

Watch a movie that makes you laugh or listen to a song that makes you cry. Embrace your emotions and be proud of what you feel.

But his singing was unconscious and irrepressible - an expression of his native exuberance, the dreamy, buoyant soundtrack running through his head.

people change and promises are broken

You make me smile like the sun, fall out bed, sing like a bird, dizzy in my head. Spin like a record crazy on a sunday night. You make me dance like a fool, forget how to breath, shine like the sun buzz like a bee, just the thought of you can drive me wild. Oh you make me smile. -Uncle Kracker-

He looked at the houses he had been passing these weeks and though he had never studied them carefully they had become familiar through the process of seeing them so often, and he was now impressed with the change in their appearance as he looked at them through the gray of the air and whiteness of the snow, each house, shrub, tree, bush and mailbox trimmed with snow and blending into the air as if they were just a picture projected upon the still, pearly grayness, just an impression created by the silent snow, a picture on the edge and verge of disappearing and leaving only the air and snow through which he now lightly walked.It did not seem possible, but the air was even softer and quieter. He continued walking alongside his prints feeling he could walk forever, that as long as the silent snow continued falling he could continue walking, and as he did he would leave behind all worries and cares, all horrors of the past and future. There would be nothing to bother him or torture his mind and fill his body with tremors of fear, the dark night of the soul over. There would only be himself and the soft, silent snow; and each flake, in its own life, its own separate and distinct entity, would bring with it its own joy, and he would easily partake of that joy as he continued walking, the gentle, silent snow falling ever so quietly, ever so joyously ... yes, and ever so love-ing-ly ... loveing-ly....

All the little duckies with their heads in the waterHeads in the waterAll the little duckies with their heads in the waterOh, such sweet little duckies.

Swans sing before they die - 'twere no bad thing Should certain persons die before they sing.

I doubt it is your styleNot to get what you set out to acquireThe eyes are on fireYou are the unforecasted stormBrianstorm

Listen to the silent whisper of your soul and then let your heart dance with song.

Music is not my life. My life is music.

Did I live the spring I’d sought?It’s true in joy, I walked along,took part in dance, and sang the song.and never tried to bind an hourto my borrowed garden bower;nor did I once entreata day to slumber at my feet.Yet days aren’t lulled by lyric song,like morning birds they pass along,o’er crests of trees, to none belong;o’er crests of trees of drying dew,their larking flight, my hands, eschewThus I’ll say it once and true…From all that I saw, and everywhere I wandered,I learned that time cannot be spent,It only can be squandered.

Sing, laugh and be merry because today you're alive.

If God wanted the woods to be quiet, He would not have given birds songs to sing.

People ask me how I make music. I tell them I just step into it. It's like stepping into a river and joining the flow. Every moment in the river has its song.

The perfect song neither ends nor begins. It is always playing. Remember to stop and listen.

A little light in the dark night A faint voice is calling you This way! This way! This flickering, wavering little voiceLike dew, like a bonfireThe voice of insectsthe sound of the water You can never lose themonce you've heard them...

As he stood up and gathered his attaché case and notebook, I reminded him that it had already been three weeks -- and counting.

But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,If I am dead, as dead I well may be,You'll come and find the place where I am lying,And kneel and say Ave there for me,And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me,And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be,For you will bend and tell me that you love me,And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me

Yesterday night gave birthTo a song, spirited and sprightly;It made my soul sparkle too,And since then, I have been oh so lively!

Those who wish to sing always find a song.

If you drive a car, I'll tax the street;if you try to sit, I'll tax your seat; if you get too cold, I'll tax the heat; if you take a walk, I'll tax your feet.

WILL YOU DANCE WITH MEAs we stand here,Hand in hand,Under the neon lightsOf Truth and Love.I'm asking you toDance with me.To twirl,Kick,Drop,Jump,And flyWith me.Skidding andSliding acrossThe dancefloor of life,I want you toGlide with me.Through theSaddest andHappiest songs,The fastest highsTo the longest andSlowest lows,I want you toFlow throughThem allWithMe.

wake up who cares about little boys that talk too much

Do you think aboutEverything you've been throughYou never thought you'd be so depressedAre you wonderingIs it life or deathDo you think that there's no one like youWe areWe areWe areWe are the onesWe get knocked downWe get back up and stand above the crowdWe are oneWe are the onesWe get knocked downWe get back up and stand above the crowdWe are oneThe life I think aboutIs so much better than thisI never thought I'd be stuck in this messI'm sick of wonderingIs it life or deathI need to figure out who's behind youWe areWe areWe areWe are the onesWe get knocked downWe get back up and stand above the crowdWe are oneWe are the onesWe get knocked downWe get back up and stand above the crowdWe are oneThe life I think aboutIs so much better than thisI never thought I'd be stuck in this messI'm sick of wonderingIs it life or death?We are the onesWe get knocked downWe get back up and stand above the crowdWe are oneWe are the onesWe get knocked downWe get back up and stand above the crowdWe are oneWe stand above the crowdWe stand above the crowdWe stand above the crowd (Crowd)(We stand) We stand above the crowdWe stand above the crowd (We Stand)We stand above the crowd(We are the ones) We stand above the crowd(We get knocked down get back up) We stand above the crowd(We are the ones) We stand above the crowd(We get knocked down get back up) We stand above the crowdWe stand above the crowdWe stand above the crowdWe stand above the crowd

God's FoolIf loving God, celebrating God, loving life, being a servant, loving my neighbor is foolish then let me be a fool. If loving God, celebrating God though art, poetry, song & dance is a fools game then let me be a fool.If trusting Jesus is a foolish waste of time and energy then let it be known by one and all I shall waste everyday every dollar I shall waste time and eternity celebrating Jesus the one who loves and delights in me.

The right song can turn an emperor into a laughingstock, can bring down dynasties.

His smile banished my loneliness and limbed the hollows of my anema with starlight, pure and bright...his touch hummed in my bones like an aria -- a song to my dance, a beginning of a promise.

There is a fragrance in the air, a certain passage of a song, an old photograph falling out from the pages of a book, the sound of somebody's voice in the hall that makes your heart leap and fills your eyes with tears. Who can say when or how it will be that something easters up out of the dimness to remind us of a time before we were born and after we will die?

She was a poem and a painting too. Everything she said sounded like a song, every silence was the music too.

And all meet in singing, which braids together the different knowings into a wide and subtle music, the music of living.