Explore Quotes on Song

Get up, stand up, Stand up for your rights. Get up, stand up, Don't give up the fight.

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds!

One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.

You don't really hear a female perspective on the radio, because so many of the songs are being written by men.

It's very hard to teach someone how to write a song if to begin with there's no creative crop to harvest.

When I write love songs, people think they're really soppy - but I see love as a consolation for the boredom of life.

Michael came home and asked, Would you like to write a song with me? I got this idea for a title called A Kiss at the End of a Rainbow. So we had a couple glasses of wine and wrote it.

I recorded a song called, I Fall to Pieces, and I was in a car wreck. Now I'm worried because I have a brand-new record, and it's called Crazy!

The collision of hail or rain with hard surfaces, or the song of cicadas in a summer field. These sonic events are made out of thousands of isolated sounds; this multitude of sounds, seen as totality, is a new sonic event.

Loud is the summer's busy song_x000D__x000D_The smallest breeze can find a tongue,_x000D__x000D_While insects of each tiny size_x000D__x000D_Grow teasing with their melodies,_x000D__x000D_Till noon burns with its blistering breath_x000D__x000D_Around, and day lies still as death.

When on a summer's morn I wake, _x000D__x000D_And open my two eyes, _x000D__x000D_Out to the clear, born-singing rills _x000D__x000D_My bird-like spirit flies._x000D__x000D__x000D_To hear the Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush, _x000D__x000D_Or any bird in song; _x000D__x000D_And common leaves that hum all day _x000D__x000D_Without a throat or tongue._x000D__x000D__x000D_And when Time strikes the hour for sleep, _x000D__x000D_Back in my room alone, _x000D__x000D_My heart has many a sweet bird's song - _x000D__x000D_And one that's all my own.

Most of the songs I sing have that blues feeling in it. They have that sorry feeling. And I don't know what I'm sorry about. I don't.

I once sent him a song and asked him to mark a cross wherever he thought it was faulty. Brahms returned it untouched, saying 'I don't want to make a cemetery of your compositions.'

As a horn player, the greatest compliment one can get is when a person comes to you and says, 'I heard this saxophone on the radio the other day and I knew it was you. I don't know the song, but I know it was you on sax.'

That's my dream job, to be able to mail songs out to people who want to hear them. Paste my face on them and not travel all over the world trying to sell them.

There's only one drummer. We all travel to his beat. Well, I couldn't sing his song. Because for me, it wasn't a truthful statement. Well, Linda sang it, and it was a monster for her.

It used to be the case that for an Irishman to come to the U.S. involved a perilous journey on a ship. It involved singing lots of songs before you left saying goodbye, and once you were in the U.S., it involved singing lots of songs about how you were never going to set foot in Ireland again.

Don't let yourself forget that God's grace rewards not only those who never slip, but also those who bend and fall. So sing! The song of rejoicing softens hard hearts. It makes tears of godly sorrow flow from them. Singing summons the Holy Spirit. Happy praises offered in simplicity and love lead the faithful to complete harmony, without discord. Don't stop singing.

A really wise man is feminine, receptive, passive. That's why Buddha looks so feminine. That quality of passiveness, that quality of receptivity... He is just a receptacle. He reflects life: he allows life to reflect in him, to be reflected through him. He sings the song that existence wants to sing through him. He has no ideas of his own; he does not hinder.

When love moves to the fifth center then whatever talents you have, any creative dimension, is possible for you. This is the center of creativity. It is not only for songs, not only for music; it is for all creativity.

When a man's life becomes poetry, becomes a song, becomes a work of art, a creativity, he has become a sannyasin. Whether he knows it or not, it does not matter. The word 'sannyas' does not matter; what matters is the content.