It's really important to me that the songs not only stand out individually but work as a full body of work, too.
The music glides between the pores of your skin to bubble through your veins in place of blood, and you can't help but clutch the mic with both trembling hands and let the song flow out of you like blood from a wound. In those moments, when the music...
Not that anyone minds--no one's paying attention to the music. Most of them never really listen to music. Practically no one actually does. Even at concerts people pay good money for, instead of a three-dollar cover charge, they talk through the whol...
Saying something is “meant to be” is a cop out. It’s a way for people to deal when they screw up or when life hands them a bowl of shit stew. The things that are meant to be are the things we can’t control, the things we don’t cause, the th...
Pretty?' I said, swivelling in the driver's seat to face him, 'you want to ask me out because I'm pretty?' 'Is there a problem with asking you out because you're pretty?' 'I think you blew it,' said Tiger with a grin. 'You should be asking her out be...
If you're a boy, any display of sensitivity is gay. Compassion is gay. Crying is supergay. Reading is usually gay. Certain songs and types of music are gay. 'Enola Gay' would certainly be thought gay. Love songs are gay. Love itself is incredibly gay...
In short, Daniel was once again a member of a family. Viewed from without they were a strange enough family: a rattling, hunchbacked old woman, a spoiled senile cocker spaniel, and a eunuch with a punctured career (for though Rey didn’t live with t...
I had a dream about you. You were playing the piano in a bar lit by neon blue lights. Smoke hung in the air like a cloud that never rains. I asked if you could play the song, “The Meat In My Fridge Never Goes Rotten,” but you claimed to have neve...
What is the world? What is it for? It is an art. It is the best of all possible art, a finite picture of the infinite. Assess it like prose, like poetry, like architecture, sculpture, painting, dance, delta blues, opera, tragedy, comedy, romance, epi...
Legends of the Silver Stallion had been told for years now, whenever mountain stockmen met round the campfires or on the winding hill tracks. Songs were sung about him to the cattle and both songs and tales had become even stranger since his supposed...
no song no picture or words will make you love me ,, may be you will never know ,, or may be you knew and felt sorry for me or thought it was sweet ,,but nothing will make me more than just a passing thought or a name you try to put for a face ,,,for...
Our sweetest songs are those of saddest thought.
Songs seem to live in the soul even when everything else leaves
A good river is nature's life work in song.
Every song deserves lyrics. Deserves a story to tell.
Letters orchestrated into a song of words create the symphony of a novel.
Love, too, has to be learned.
You're everything I write about in my songs, but can never have.
He sleeps with you?" "Robert?" Stacey rolled her eyes at that. "No, Ghandi-of Robert!
I want to sell to people my own age, because that's the way I write songs.
If I was writing songs just for me I'd only play them in my living room, alone.
