I could not get my fill of looking. There should be a song for women to sing at this moment or a prayer to recite. But perhaps there is none because there are no words strong enough to name that moment.
Have you ever experienced a beauty of soul, an esthetic grace, that was so intense it made you want to cry?" From Central Park Song ( A Screenplay )
If freedom is the basis of life, then love is the basis of real freedom, the capacity to love without bonds is the freedom of the highest order.
It was as if his song was one voice, calling out into the darkness until it was answered by another, harmonizing with its own unique voice and emotion to create something even more beautiful than the sum of its parts.
When the stars threw down their spears, and watered heaven with their tears, did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
How can the bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing? How can a child, when fears annoy, But droop his tender wing, And forget his youthful spring?
She’d never felt more alone, even as hundreds of people walked by. No one recognized her, and she began to treasure her anonymity as a gift.
But of bliss and glad life there is little to be said, before it ends; as works fair and wonderful, while they still endure for eyes to see, are ever their own record, and only when they are in peril or broken for ever do they pass into song.
Sometimes, the only way to exorcise old ghosts is to pack your bags and move in with them.
The song being great in its own wealth, why should it wait upon the words? Rather does it begin where mere words fail. Its power lies in the region of the inexpressible; it tells us what the words cannot.
Concerning the popularity of vampire books: I don't get it. I think people should read about bloody, heart-singing, mind-searing spirituality. Live your heart’s song, not its drippings.
You are the answer to every prayer I've offered. You are a song, a dream, a whisper, and I don't know how I could have lived without you for as long as I have.
...it was if another planet were calling. The call, embodied, issued in liquid syllables from the mouth of the Arab sailor who, on the prow of the each sun-up, looked toward the East and sang the Persian song:
He thought her more beautiful than ever, with a beauty that was at once feminine and angelic, that wholeness of beauty that had moved Petrarch to song and brought Dante to his knees.
This water was indeed a different thing from ordinary nourishment. Its sweetness was born of the walk under the stars, the song of the pulley, the effort of my arms. It was good for the heart, like a present.
She burst in the door, I burst into song, and he burst into flames. Our love triangle turned into dinner for two featuring roasted marshmallows.
Emotions come and go and can't be controlled so there's no reason to worry about them. That in the end, people should be judged by their actions since in the end it was actions that defined everyone.
Mom says it's because she has PMS. Do you even know what that means? "I'm not a little kid anymore. It means pissed-at- men syndrome
The secret is to know how to lie" he used to say, " and to know when someone's lying to you". His father, Steve eventually decided, must have known how to lie.
I felt my mouth go dry, my throat constrict. What possible interpretation could Peter place on those words, other than that they were about him? - that the entire song was about him?
Say to them, say to the down-keepers, the sun-slappers, the self-soilers, the harmony-hushers, "Even if you are not ready for day it cannot always be night." You will be right. For that is the hard home-run. Live not for battles won. Live not for the...
