Best 8933 quotes in «song quotes» category

Come back to me. Where have you gone? And why so long? I miss the star below your lip, the constellation on your chest. I miss your ways, how you net butter-flying words and release them for others to enjoy. I miss your tenderness, the sweetness of your breath and the song of your voice. I miss how you worship me. Come back to me once more. Why did you go? And whatever for? The heavens plotted against us. The clouds came and pissed on our lives. The smell of charged particles still lingers in the air. What will become of you and I? Come back to us.

Come thaw my frozen heart, my little arctic kitten.” Unable to resist, Aria jumped in and picked up the next line. “No chance, my yeti man, I’d rather be frostbitten.” “Let me be your snowman. Come live in my igloo.” “I’d rather freeze to death than hibernate with you.

Consider my Lover; the yellow church of his skin, the clean wells of his ears; How the notes of a song come to him like birds descending on a power line; How in his absence I am of two throats--each of them cramped.

Constipation ran Presley's life. Even his famous motto TCB— 'Taking Care of Business'— sounds like a reference to bathroom matters.

Courtesy, not control, that was His means. Just as He requested the stars to sing and they leapt into bright being, so request was to be their rule over bird and beast, seas and trees, mountains and moons and all the dancing distances between the heavenlies filled with the unending song of Creation.

Daughter, daughter, shining bright Precious jewel within mine sight Oh, if I could soar with thee As you seek your destiny. To see with you the caves and skies Vistas grand beneath your eyes Taking wing to horizons new Let us wonder who waits for you. A dragon bright? A dragon dark? Victor of duels with battle mark? A dragon strong? A dragon keen? Singer of honors and triumphs seen? Red, Gold, Bronze, and Blue To your lord you shall be true, Copper, Silver, Black, and White, Who will win your mating flight? For in your hearts our future rests To see our line with hatchlings blessed And for those who threaten clutch of flame, To feel the wrath of dragon-dame.

dear mother, our daughters watch us to see what they'll be expected to be and our sons watch us to see what they'll be able to get away with

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 hour to my borrowed garden bower; nor did I once entreat a 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, eschew Thus 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.

Do not conceale thy heavenly voice, Which makes the hearts of Gods rejoyce, Least Musicke hearing no such thing, The Nightingale forget to sing.

Don't be afraid of the dark Look inside Grab your heart Let it shine If it's dark outside Shine your light

Don’t go away, say what you say, say that you’ll stay, forever and a day, in the time of my life

Do you think we make sad things into songs in order to hold on to the sadness or to banish it—I think it is to banish the sadness. So then if you write a happy song, is it not sadder than a sad song because by making it you have banished your own happiness into a song?

During certain periods of our lives, we may listen to a particular song that touches our hearts so much that we end up repeating the song for the umpteenth time. My question is, how would you know the next song will also touch your heart if you don't allow the playlist to flow? This happens to us in real life; sometimes we get too comfortable with one thing such that we don't allow for other experiences and opportunities.

Dusk has dawned, I hear its call, above the world I’ve watched it fall; I smell blood and I smell bone, and I smell fear coated in gold; Grind your bread and bake their teeth, and death will come while you’re asleep; I will rage. I will rage. Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum ‘Til the mountains crumble down, and oceans become heaven’s crown; Land sinks low, the gold runs dry, and when these bones rain from the sky; ‘Til the giants fall to myth, and none remains to journey with; I will stand. I will stand. Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum I will stand for my homeland, for nowhere else could bear my hand; I will stand by friend and kin, we share the gold under our skin; I will stand ‘til my death comes, and as my soul greets sky and sun, I will sing, I will sing, Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum

Every day sings its own song.

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

Every night I used to pray that I’d find my people, and finally I did on the open road. We had nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing we desired anymore, except to make our lives into a work of art.

Every song I am listening to It has an imaginary story about you.

Everything was a song if you knew how to listen.

Every time I stare into those eyes of yours, they shine like a mirror with the sharp edges, piercing trough every bit of my reflection. It makes me feel like a child lost in the woods. And all of a sudden I hear a song somewhere and a shiver runs down my spine. A song that I have heard somewhere before. A song that makes all my demons dance forcefully at once.

For humanity sake, ask someone to shed a tear and to sing their unsung song.. afterall who doesnt like a smiling face!

For he had never heard anything like it--did not know such music existed in the world--and it was hard to believe that a man he knew could play it with his own two hands. There were parts of it like birdsong, and parts like rolling thunder and hard rain, and parts that glittered like fresh snow when the sun comes out and it’s so cold the air takes your breath away. And parts were like a dust devil spinning past, or a cyclone on the horizon, and all of it cried out for words that he had only read in books and had never said aloud.

Give me all your money and I'll make some origami, honey.

Great people will always be mocked by those who feel smaller than them. A lion does not flinch at laughter coming from a hyena. A gorilla does not budge from a banana thrown at it by a monkey. A nightingale does not stop singing its beautiful song at the intrusion of an annoying woodpecker. Whenever you should doubt your self-worth, remember the lotus flower. Even though it plunges to life from beneath the mud, it does not allow the dirt that surrounds it to affect its growth or beauty.

Hard Wind Sister with iron hooves Together we shall travel steppes that no man nor mount has seen Courage will be my saddle And your bridle shall be my faith in you …

HEARING A FLUTE ON A SPRING NIGHT IN LUOYANG From whose home secretly flies the sound of a jade flute? It's lost amid the spring wind which fills Luoyang city. In the middle of this nocturne I remember the snapped willow, What person would not start to think of home!

Heaven resonates when one sings wholeheartedly.

Her song was so beautiful that it could take people back to all the things they wished they had done, and all the things they wished they could be.

Her voice was like a portrait of her soul: wild as a fire, sharp as shattered glass, sweet and clean as clover.

He smells so damn good. Like my favorite song.

Het wonder is geschied, mijn pruim is nat en 't regent niet.

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.

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

How many rivers do we have to cross, Before we can talk to the boss?

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray Forget your woes and let your troubles lay And when it's morning again, they'll wash away Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.

Displaced Person’s Song If you see a train this evening, Far away, against the sky, Lie down in your woolen blanket, Sleep and let the train go by. Trains have called us, every midnight, From a thousand miles away, Trains that pass through empty cities, Trains that have no place to stay. No one drives the locomotive, No one tends the staring light, Trains have never needed riders, Trains belong to bitter night. Railway stations stand deserted, Rights-of-way lie clear and cold, What we left them, trains inherit, Trains go on, and we grow old. Let them cry like cheated lovers, Let their cries find only wind, Trains are meant for night and ruin, And we are meant for song and sin.

Do you wrestle with dreams? Do you contend with shadows? Do you move in a kind of sleep? Time has slipped away. Your life is stolen. You tarried with trifles, Victim of your folly.

Each song is a child I nourish and give my love to. But even if you have never written a song, your life is a song. How can it not be?

En réponse à cette sorcellerie, les lames runiques de Skynth s’illuminèrent et se couvrirent d’une fine pellicule glacée alors qu’une litanie enflait dans les rangs des défenseurs : Si les Dieux d’Yskaz le veulent… L’on siégera à leur droite Sous les étoiles cristallines et moirées Dans les glaces scintillantes Si les Dieux d’Yskaz le veulent… L’on passera à leur gauche Sur les brisants nuées pâles et mouvantes Dans les Landes Figées Si les Dieux d’Yskaz le veulent… Le peuple d’Yskaz affectionnait les runes de froid au combat et l’on disait volontiers dans les cinq royaumes que le baiser d’une lame en acier d’Yskaz était plus froid que la mort elle-même.

Everybody at the party is a many sided polygon....Nonagon!

Every day is getting worse Do the same things and they hurt I don't know if I should cry All I know is that I'm tryin' I wanna believe in you, I wanna believe in you So why can't you be, be good to me....

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

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...

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

For all the way he loved her. Every song had her memory, every rain had her smell, and every girl had her face.

Forget your voice, sing! Forget your feet, dance! Forget your life, live! Forget yourself and be!

For I am you and you are I.

From attraction and affection Cover of perfection Failure beyond texture to a painful lesson Everything that was from the start wasn't from the heart

From time to time I once wondered how one wanders from time to time And think up the paradox line Speak of Epoch's crime Oh I lied, it hasn't happened yet But bet you better believe it's such a habit that I just said that in a past mindset

God has prepared for Himself one great song of praise throughout eternity, and those who enter the community of God join in this song. It is the song that the “morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy” at the creation of the world. (Job 38:7). It is the victory song of the children of Israel after passing through the Red Sea, the Magnificat of Mary after the annunciation, the song of Paul and Silas in the night of prison, the song of the singers on the sea of glass after their rescue, the “song of Moses the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb” (Rev. 15:3) It is the song of the heavenly fellowship.