Changeling Songs Quotes

Words belong to those who use them only till someone else steals them back. ~ Hakim Bey

Ideas for songs can come from something as simple as a photograph and letting my imagination run wild on an old photograph that I found, or to a film that I have seen or to just most of the time, just daily walking through life and keeping your eyes open. ~ PJ Harvey

She does look beautiful, though, doesn't she?'
'The stuff of love songs,' Cam said. ~ Lauren Kate

THEY WERE PEOPLE who went in for Negroes - Michael and Anne - the Carraways. But not in the social-service, philanthropic sort of way, no. They saw no use in helping a race that was already too charming and naive and lovely for words. Leave them unspoiled and just enjoy them, Michael and Anne felt. So they went in for the Art of Negroes - the dancing that had such jungle life about it, the songs that were so simple and fervent, the poetry that was so direct, so real. They never tried to influence that art, they only bought it and raved over it, and copied it. For they were artists, too. ~ Langston Hughes

Frosh-week songs are meant to be offensive because offensive is rebellious. ~ Russell Smith

God has called His creation to find satisfaction in a personal relationship with Him, and stop trying to manage the world by conforming it to our expectations, and to allow Him to govern His creation. He continues to say through an ancient Hebrew worship song, Be still and know that I am God! ~ Charles R. Swindoll

Demon or bird! (said the boy's soul,)
Is it indeed toward your mate you sing? or is it mostly to me?
For I, that was a child, my tongue's use sleeping,
Now I have heard you,
Now in a moment I know what I am for - I awake, 150
And already a thousand singers - a thousand songs, clearer, louder and more sorrowful than yours,
A thousand warbling echoes have started to life within me,
Never to die.

O you singer, solitary, singing by yourself - projecting me;
O solitary me, listening - nevermore shall I cease perpetuating you; 155
Never more shall I escape, never more the reverberations,
Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me,
Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before what there, in the night,
By the sea, under the yellow and sagging moon,
The messenger there arous'd - the fire, the sweet hell within, 160
The unknown want, the destiny of me. ~ Walt Whitman

I've been writing songs on little pieces of paper since I was a little kid, and it's just always been something I've done. ~ Chris Carmack

When you're all singing together, it brings things together. I know the songs that my grandfather and my father sang. ~ Terry Pratchett

Excerpt from "The Trees in Winter"

I'm old now and tired. Dried up and brittle. My hands are like clumsy crooked twigs hanging from my stick figure wrists. My body doesn't work like it used to, and what goes on in my mind feels about as useful as a cheap trick performed day after day by a third rate magician, an act so worn out that not even I can pretend to be entertained by it anymore. There's nothing much left to say and even less to do. The repetition is uninspiring, like playing the same set of the same songs day after day. The jazz has gone out of my life, and the dull plodding rhythm I'm left with will never bring it back. There's a persistent chill in the house that follows me around. Maybe it's not in the house but in me. Am I becoming morbid? Am I becoming anything? ~ D.E. Sievers

Christ himself wrote nothing, but furnished endless material for books and songs of gratitude and praise. ~ Philip Schaff

out of the arms...


out of the arms of one love
and into the arms of another

I have been saved from dying on the cross
by a lady who smokes pot
writes songs and stories,
and is much kinder than the last,
much much kinder,
and the sex is just as good or better.

it isn't pleasant to be put on the cross and left there,
it is much more pleasant to forget a love which didn't
work
as all love
finally
doesn't work...

it is much more pleasant to make love
along the shore in Del Mar
in room 42, and afterwards
sitting up in bed
drinking good wine, talking and touching
smoking

listening to the waves...

I have died too many times
believing and waiting, waiting
in a room
staring at a cracked ceiling
waiting for the phone, a letter, a knock, a sound...
going wild inside
while she danced with strangers in nightclubs...

out of the arms of one love
and into the arms of another

it's not pleasant to die on the cross,
it's much more pleasant to hear your name whispered in the dark. ~ Charles Bukowski

We never thought we were writing for posterity, because at the time everyone assumed that all the great standards had already been written by Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, Rodgers and Hammerstein ... The songs we were writing were supposed to be temporary things, of the period, like comic books. ~ Mike Stoller

If a song's about something I've experienced or that could've happened to me it's good. But if it's alien to me, I couldn't lend anything to it. Because that's what soul is all about. ~ Aretha Franklin

It's good having a lot of different songs to choose from to do the show. It means you don't get bored of doing it in one particular genre. ~ Bryan Ferry

I love listening to pop songs in Spanish and Italian. ~ Stjepan Hauser

I'm singing background on one of Blondie's songs on her new album. ~ Melissa Joan Hart

I smoke up all my shit and gulp down a few beers, and listen to soft, love songs by Drake, and even though I usually like Drake, I'm like 'Drake man, these ho's ain't loyal. ~ Gisele Walko

I doubt I'll be singing forever, because at some point people aren't going to want to hear my music, and I hope that I'll still get the opportunity to write songs. ~ Adele

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. ~ Kristin Hersh

CAN YOU TURN THAT OFF, GRANDMA?' I shouted down. 'YOU KNOW I AM STRUGGLING.'

There was a long pause.

'Who yuh tink yuh talking to?' my grandmother shouted back. 'Yuh tink say you can be DJ inna my house cause of a man? ~ Candice Carty-Williams

If you look at an old piece of sheet music, there's all kinds of text on it, there are ads, there are proclamations of the greatest songs' success, there's artwork. So there is a tactile, physical experience of learning the song and the way it's notated. ~ Beck

Both of my parents are actors and directors and whatnot. My dad loves really solid, old school, Broadway musicals, and one of them is 'Assassins' by Stephen Sondheim. All of the successful or non-successful assassins that have ever existed in the United States come together, and they talk about their killing or attempts through songs. ~ Will Rothhaar

Get up, groan, write a bit, moan, eat breakfast, write some more, cycle my bike through the Sligo hills, make up country songs as I pedal along, sing them, have lunch, have a nap, groan, moan, write a small bit more, cook dinner, feed wifey, open a bottle, or several, slump, sleep. ~ Kevin Barry

Writing songs always trumps whatever else was on the schedule, it really is the most important and can be so fickle, you have to grab it when it's there. ~ Beth Moore

I write songs about real things ... The subject dictates the mood and it goes from there, really. ~ John Mayall

Usually, when you go in to make a record, you have 30 songs, and you record 30 of them, and 12 of them make it to the record. ~ Dave Grohl

In many (most?) churches there are programs and activities ... but so little worship. There are songs and anthems and musicals ... but so little worship. There are announcements and readings and prayers ... but so little worship. ~ Charles R. Swindoll

There's a whole range of sources of inspiration for the drawings and stories. They come from dreams, hallucinations, pop songs, or other things I see in the world around me. ~ Ryan McGinness

Statement Preliminary to the Invention of Solace

Whether they bend as compliantly as black leaves
Curved and hanging in the heavy dew in the grey dawn,
Or whether they wait as motionless as ice-coated
Insects and spears of roots on a northern cliff;

Whether they tighten once like the last white edge
Of primrose taken suddenly skyward
By a gust of frost, or swallow as hard as stones
Careened and scattered by a current of river;

Whether they mourn by the bright light of grief
Running like a spine of grass straight through the sound
Of their songs, or whether they fall quietly
Through indefinite darkness like a seed of sorrel
Bound alive beneath snow;

whether they mourn in multitudes, blessed
like a congregation of winter forest moaning for the white
drifting children of storms they can never remember,
or whether they grieve separately, divided
even from themselves, parted like golden plovers blown
and calling over a buffeted sea;

something must come to them, something as clear and fair
and continuous as the eye of the bluegill open in calm water,
something as silent as the essential spaces of breath
heard inside the voice naming all of their wishes,

something touching them in the same way the sun deep
in the pit of the pear touches the spring sky by the light
of its own leaf. A comfort understood like that Pattiann Rogers