Song Quotes - Page 2

A song will outlive all sermons in the memory.

I'm not the one who's so far awayWhen I feel the snake bite enter my veins.Never did I wanna be here again,And I don't remember why I came.

Heaven resonates when one sings wholeheartedly.

Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, all dressed in black, black, black. She has a knife, knife, knife, stuck in her back, back, back. She cannot breathe, breathe, breathe. She cannot cry, cry, cry. Thats why she begs, begs, begs. She begs to die, die ,die..

If there is anything certain in life, it is this. Time doesn't always heal. Not really. I know they say it does, but that is not true. What time does is to trick you into believing that you have healed, that the hurt of a great loss has lessened. But a single word, a note of a song, a fragrance, a knife point of dawn light across an empty room, any one of these things will take you back to that one moment you have never truly forgotten. These small things are the agents of memory. They are the sharp needle points piercing the living fabric of your life.Life, my children, isn't linear where the heart is concerned. It is filled with invisible threads that reach out from your past and into your future. These threads connect every second we have lived and breathed. As your own lives move forward and as the decades pass, the more of these threads are cast. Your task is to weave them into a tapestry, one that tells the story of the time we shared.

There were things I'd never do again, but then, they'd always seemed right.

I earned my place,With the tidal waves.I can't escape this feeling,That something ain't right.I called my nameAs I crashed the gates,Still I can't escape this feelingThat something ain't right.

I got the Eye of the Tiger The FireDancing through the fire Cause I am a Champion!And your gonna hear me Roar-Roar

Show me a person who found love in his life and did not celebrate it with a dance.

The hand on my hair moved to my back, and I realized someone was singing softly. The voice was familiar, and something about it made my chest ache. Well, that was to be expected. Angels' songs would be awfully poignant. "'I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar, when I met you...'" the voice crooned. I frowned. Was that really an appropriate song for the Heavenly Host to be--

And I'm not saying it's a bad song, you know, or anything like that. All I'm saying is that if you get, I don't know, a broom, say, and dip it in some brake fluid, put the other end up my arse, stick me on a trampoline in a moving lift, and I would write a better song on the walls. That's all I'm saying.

Sing through your grief. Don't let your thoughts weigh you down.

I knew, really knew, I would never die with my song unsung.

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.

A good river is nature's life work in song.

A theology that cannot be sung is not worth having.... Authentic Christian faith is not merely believed. Nor is it merely acted upon. It is sung - with utter joy sometimes, in uncontrollable tears sometimes, but it is sung.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far awayA cloak of leaves, a moonbeam rayForget your woes and let your troubles layAnd when it's morning again, they'll wash awayHere it's safe, here it's warmHere the daisies guard you from every harmHere your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them trueHere is the place where I love you.

Here is the soundless cypress on the lawn:It listens, listens. Taller trees beyondListen. The moon at the unruffled pondStares. And you sing, you sing.That star-enchanted song falls through the airFrom lawn to lawn down terraces of sound,Darts in white arrows on the shadowed ground;And all the night you sing.My dreams are flowers to which you are a beeAs all night long I listen, and my brainReceives your song, then loses it againIn moonlight on the lawn.Now is your voice a marble high and white,Then like a mist on fields of paradise,Now is a raging fire, then is like ice,Then breaks, and it is dawn.

Sing a Song before you can't Sing some Song ~

How many victims must that be? Slaughtered in vain across the land,And how many strugles must that be?Before we choose to live the profits planEverybody sing- Every day create your History,Every path you take you're leaving your legacyEvery soldier dies in his gloryEvery legend tells of conquest and liberty.

If you're horrible to me, I'm going to write a song about it, and you won't like it. That's how I operate.

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...

To know if someone can speak offensively or politely, don’t give him poem to recite; don’t give him a song to sing. Just engage him in an argument and you will know it for yourself who he is.

If movements were a spark every dancer would desire to light up in flames.

Nothing safe is worth the drive.

And stay, my dearstay...forever, as my quiet song,in my lilac dawn.

True love is actually very hard to understand... Everybody is looking for love, everybody is fighting for love... But because they can't bear to say it outloud, they express it through songs

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

The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad, For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.

Oh ... My twitchy witchy girl I think you are so nice, I give you bowls of porridge And I give you bowls of ice-cream.

The Qu'ran is God's song, not ours, not even Muhammad's. To allow such a song to pass through one's body, however imperfectly, is to discover that the instrument is transformed by the music.

They had met at a club fifteen years before, Etta and Magnus. He had convinced her to dance with him, and she said she had been in love by the end of the song. He told her he had been in love before the beginning.

From time to timeI once wondered how one wanders from time to timeAnd think up the paradox lineSpeak of Epoch's crimeOh I lied, it hasn't happened yetBut bet you better believe it's such a habit thatI just said that in a past mindset

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-

Music replays the past memories, awaken our forgotten worlds and make our minds travel.

And then like a song we'd forgotten was even on the mix, you stepped into the house and my whole life.