Songs Quotes - Page 2

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

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

With her enchanting songs, her rare beauty, and clever tricks, this wild 'wanderess' ensnared my soul like a gypsy-thief, and led me foolish and blind to where you find me now. The first time I saw her, fires were alight. It was a spicy night in Barcelona. The air was fragrant and free.

Do we not each dream of dreams? Do we not dance on the notes of lost
memories? Then are we not each dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday, since dreams
play when time is askew? Are we not all adrift in the constant sea of trial and when all is done, do we not all yearn for ships to carry us home?

Call me crazy, but there is something terribly wrong with this city.

I can’t help but ask, “Do you know where you are?”
She turns to me with a foreboding glare. “Do you?

There is a stillness between us, a period of restlessness that ties my stomach
in a hangman’s noose. It is this same lack in noise that lives, there! in the
darkness of the grave, how it frightens me beyond all things.

Did Bach ever eat
pancakes at midnight?

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

She leaves my side and heads deeper into
the apartment singing, “ - if the spirit tries to hide, its temple far away… a
copper for those they ask, a diamond for those who stay.

That’s a stupid name! Whirly-gig is much better, I think. Who in their right
mind would point at this thing and say, ‘I’m going to fly in my Model-A1’.
People would much rather say, ‘Get in my whirly-gig’. And that’s what you
should name it.

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.

Perhaps it is how we are made; perhaps words of truth reach us best through the heart, and stories and songs are the language of the heart

One day that song stopped being on the outside of me and went deep inside. It was there all the time, especially when I was feeling particularly lonely.

Panic bells, it's red alert
There's something here
From somewhere else
The war machine springs to life
Opens up one eager eye
Focusing it on the sky
Where 99 red balloons go by

Why not fall in love with an artist? Otherwise there are no letters, pictures, paintings and songs for you when you wake up.

Treat a sick man with the medicine and a sad man with the music.

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.

Love songs are nothing without exaggeration.

The boy Prewitt loved the songs because they gave him something, a first hint that pain might not be pointless if you could only turn it into something.