Songs Quotes

Children make up the best songs, anyway. Better than grown-ups. Kids are always working on songs and throwing them away, like little origami things or paper airplanes. They don't care if they lose it; they'll just make another one.

When I was younger, I would cling to life because life was at the top of the turning wheel. But like the song of my gypsy girl, the great wheel turns over and lands on a minor key. It is then that you come of age and life means nothing to you. To live, to die, to overdose, to fall in a coma in the street... it is all the same. It is only in the peach innocence of youth that life is at its crest on top of the wheel. And there being only life, the young cling to it, they fear death… And they should! ...For they are 'in' life.

Songs edify the soul.

Music give infinite strength.

How could you be sad, when you can sing?

The songs were all either fast or sad. Because all songs should be either fast or sad.

I'm a peasantI'm the muzhikA pest you're destined to play the musicAnd yes it's pleasant to say it's beauty I'mIndebted to rest respecting it truly

History doesn’t start with a tall buildingand a card with your name written on it, but jokes do. I think someone is takingus for suckers and is playing a mean game.

The shadow of a character is defined by its maker...while a heroine is personified by its actions and relatability. So writers can create a world with a heroine that has impact and finish with everessence lights at the dims of its shadows

I lost my voice and my best friend tooOn swift, fierce winds and wings of blue, The cold rain fell where beams had shone, So I wrapped up tight and safe. Alone.But I missed my friend, I missed my voice, And my heart still whispered of another choiceTo break out of my binding, safe, and warm,And see what the world looked like after the storm.So I struggled free and was greeted byColorful brushstrokes across the sky,The melody of the summer breezeAnd blue wings like mine in hazel trees.On the soft, sweet air of the mountain glade,We gathered together in cool, green shade,And told our stories, beginnings to ends,And found our song in the hearts of new friends.

Love songs are nothing without exaggeration.

You write poems with your fingertipsAnd I keep listening to the songs written on my skinBy some distant dream, similar wordsBut the verses never meet...

Cheer up and dry your damp eyes,And tell me when it rains,And I'll blend up that rainbow above you & shoot it through your veins...'Cause your heart has a lack of color,And we should've known That we'd grow up sooner or later,'Cause we wasted all our free time alone. <3

Some songs can make you to travel a million miles inside your head

When I write I like to give equal justice to lyrics, too. I want the song to have meaning for me so I can make it have meaning for the audience.

I suspect that I’m not alone when it comes to altering my surroundings depending on how I feel at any particular moment: diving into a specific book, immersing inside a particular movie, devouring certain foods or humming to just the right song.

What good is a song that doesn't break your heart?

Over and over. They be making me remember everythings. Me old songs, they just be natural. But now they be stuffing new things into me and this poor head hurts horrid.

Hair is gray and the firers are burning. So many dreams on the shelf. You say I wanted you to be proud of me. I always wanted that myself.

Classic of '43. Don't knock it. A Vintage year.

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.

The strength of my heart is the music in my spirit.

I rouse Emily to our guests, as she finishes off our fifteenth snowman by setting the head atop its torso. She stands limp at my direction, pointing out the coming shadows and I cannot help but hear a muffled sigh as she decapitates her latest creation with a single push of her hand.

In history, the bleeding from arbitrary beatings, forced breedings, and choked-heatbreathing could almost be withstood by soul-feeding songs sung, or listlessly hummed just to go on.

Music is what our soul sounds like when it sings.

You will never find peace with these fascistsYou'll never find friends such as weSo remember that valley of JaramaAnd the people that'll set that valley free.From this valley they say we are goingDo not hasten to bid us adieu Even though we lost the battle at JaramaWe'll set this valley before we're through.All this world is like this valley called JaramaSo green and so bright and so fairNo fascists can dwell in our valleyNor breathe in our new freedoms air.

When I discovered music — when I discovered the craft of shaping a song — my being fell into place.

Whose starboard eyeSaw chariot 'swing low'?

Can't fight the moment of truth in your lies.

No wolf falters before the bite, so strike.No hawk wavers before the dive, so swing.No sun pauses before the set, just strike.No rain delays before the fall, just swing.

Our songs travel the earth. We sing to one another. Not a single note is ever lost and no song is original. They all come from the same place and go back to a time when only the stones howled.

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

Songs can be like photos - they hold a memory, a moment, and thoughts that keep you warm inside.