In other words, I was a moderately happy penguin who was occasionally attacked by sadness.
The sad reality of Mankind: Faith is the currency people trade in, through their ego and selfish ways.
The sad truth about bigotry is that most bigots either don't realize that they are bigots, or they convince themselves that their bigotry is perfectly justified.
I dance. A lot. I work grief and sadness out of my body when I dance, and I bring in joy and rhythm.
When sadness happens in the middle of work, I separate my personal grief from my train of thought.
I started writing songs at age 15.
To finish a song is the best feeling in the world.
Nothing in my songs is disrespective.
All of my songs are autobiographical.
I like songs that are simple.
Life is a song to me.
My songs are like my kids.
We became the songs we wrote.
A rhyme doesn't make a song.
Still must the poet as of old, In barren attic bleak and cold, Starve, freeze, and fashion verses to Such things as flowers and song and you; Still as of old his being give In Beauty's name, while she may live, Beauty that may not die as long As ther...
The leaving happened slowly, gradually, as these things do, and before we knew it, we were lost to each other, as if a magician had whisked a cloth off the table, leaving the dishes there, jolted. And when we looked back it was all a blur, time on fa...
Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without: It was his own gri...
Music is a total constant. That’s why we have such a strong visceral connection to it, you know? Because a song can take you back instantly to a moment, or a place, or even a person. No matter what else has changed in you or the world, that one son...
Sometimes, the Lord just takes blessed people because they've filled their purpose early. Everyone plays their own song. They sing their story to the world and leave behind a melody of memories. Sometimes... their song is cut short and ends too early...
Two people, two hands, and two songs, in this case "Big Shot" and "Bette Davis Eyes." The lyrics of the two songs provided no commentary, honest or ironic, on the proceedings. They were merely there and always underfoot, the insistent gray muck that ...
Beautiful songs could sometimes take a person out of themselves and carry them away to a place of magic. But when Jill sang, it was not about the song, really. She could sing the phone book. She could sing a shopping list. Whatever she sang, whatever...
