Shiro S Lullaby Quotes

One naughty little woodpecker
Another day pecking your holes
Ruining the the forest, tree wrecker
The angry wood god turned your little beak into a poison knife
Poor little wood pecker, your nesting holes are all tainted
Your foods with toxins rife
Touch your friends, and they all will die falling to your feet
Oh, sad little woodpecker
Poisonous tears, shining brightly as they stream down your cheeks ~ Shiro

Ocean waves gently rock the boat,
As if to the tune of a lullaby.
She sits still as the boat silently floats
Under the infinite blue sky. ~ Rachel Lewis

But, even when angry, she had a voice that would put finches in their place and lull them to silence. ~ S.D. Lawendowski

Therefore, she hummed the provincial lullaby she had learned from the officers' children in the English Quarter of Jerusalem, and watched in fascination while the savage radical's eyes misted over with tears. For an instant, the prison bars melted away, and she felt God's presence - for the first time since their imprisonment. She was not a captive, and this man was not her captor. Indeed, they were both merely God's children. ~ V.S. Carnes

It is noted that from 1967 to 1995 essays on negative emotions far outnumbered those on positive emotions in the psychological literature. The ratio was 21:1. Even those supreme perpetrators of pop nihilism, The New York Times and The Washington Post, have a better ratio than psychological literature. They average 12 negative stories to every one that might be construed to be non-negative. Many of their non-negative stories, however, cover success in sports and entertainment.

I demand that the purveyors of despair who pretend to be dispassionate observes of the human condition go ahead and disclose that the 10 most beautiful words in the English languages are chimes, dawn, golden, hush, lullaby, luminous, melody, mist, murmuring, and tranquil; that Java sparrows prefer the music of Back over that of Schoenberg; that math experts have determined there are 1/96 trillion ways to lace up your shoes; that the Inuit term for making love is translated as 'laughing together in bed;' and that according to Buckminster Fuller, "pollution is nothing but resources we're not harvesting. ~ Rob Brezsny

I'm saying it's totally oblivious to how people feel. Take the ocean, for instance. You can love it, but it doesn't love you back. It will suck you under and steal your breath and beauty can make you cry, or that the sound of the tide coming in at night is the best lullaby you ever heard. ~ D. Anne Love

Jimmy: When you die, I die
Sora: Wow, that's some serious relationship! ~ Shiro Amano

It's very you, that bike. Fast and dirty and loud."
"Watch it, missy. My girl hums like a lullaby."
"Oh yeah. Completely."
"You're just not listening right, that's all."
"I suppose my hearing's too sensitive."
"Just the opposite. You listen properly, behind the growl, it's all purrs. Pure pussycat. ~ Cara McKenna

I sang to her. I sang every lullaby I could think of, and then I just started singing her Toby Keith songs. I think she really likes 'I Love This Bar.' ~ Abbi Glines

He's speaking in the tone of voice that everyone uses when they're about to break you apart. Gentle - kind, even - like they can make the news sound better just by speaking in a lullaby voice. ~ Lauren Oliver

One heart fulfills all hearts.
All hearts lead to the same heart.
"Kingdom Hearts"
A place where the mighty hearts lives.
And where darkness is endlessly deep. ~ Shiro Amano

Nice piano," I said. "Do you play?"
"oh no, but Edwart does!" Eva Mullen said.
"A little," Edwart said sheepishly.
"Go ahead, play!" Eva said. She picked up the triangle that was lying on the piano and handed it to Edwart. He started banging on it. It sounded like construction work very early in the morning.
"Whoops. I messed up. Let me start over," he said.
He started banging again.
"Wait. Uh. I haven't practiced in a while. Let me start over."
Edwart continued to bang the triangle. Eva closed her eyes and raised her arms, swaying rhythmically to Edwart's music. Edwart held the triangle up high, in what appeared to be a grand finish, but then he brought it down hard, hitting the top of the piano. He continued to bang the piano, putting the entire force of his slim body into each smash. The piano shook. The room vibrated. When he finished I subtly removed my hands from my ears.
"I wrote that for you," Edwart murmured, drawing me close. "It's called Belle's Lullaby. ~ The Harvard Lampoon

It seems to begin before dawn with the Muslims, when a mosque at the edge of the mangrove forest softly announces, in a lullaby voice, the morning call to prayer. Not to be outdone, the local Christians soon crank up pop-sounding hymns that last anywhere from one to three hours. This is followed by cheerful, though overamplified, kazoo-like refrain from the Hindu temple that reminds Less of the ice cream truck from his childhood. Then comes a later call to prayer. Then the Christians decide to ring some bronze bells. And so on. There are sermons and live singers and thunderous drum performances. In this way, the faiths alternate throughout the day, as at a music festival, growing louder and louder until, during the outright cacophony of sunset, the Muslims, who began the whole thing, declare victory by projecting not only the evening call to prayer but the prayer itself in its entirety. After that, the jungle falls to silence. Perhaps this is the Buddhists' sole contribution. Every morning, it starts again. ~ Andrew Sean Greer

Thank you for a lullaby last night.
Thank you for the boy who sang it. ~ Lisa Schroeder

...When she'd skillfully turned it back towards the herd, Rebecca lifted an arm to wave at Jake, her smile vis­ible even from this distance. He felt a familiar tightening in his loins. How many times had he watched her ride across the Lazy A, experienced the same stirrings, and rid­den away so she'd never know what his true feelings were? He didn't have to ride away today. He could watch her graceful movements to his heart's content. ~ Lorraine Heath

I am writing a book entitled "Conquest." Please be ready. It is a book children should red. ~ Charles Keith Hardman

Still, sometimes they leave behind a small memento, like Haida and the boxed set of Years of Pilgrimage. He probably didn't simply forget it, but intentionally left it behind in Tsukuru's apartment. And Tsukuru loved that music, for it connected him to Haida, and to Shiro. It was the vein that connected these three scattered people. A fragile, thin vein, but one that still had living, red blood coursing through it. The power of music made it possible. Whenever he listened to that music, particularly "Le mal du pays," vivid memories of the two of them swept over him. At times it even felt like they were right beside him, quietly breathing. ~ Haruki Murakami

He was lying in bed with the woman he loved . . . a woman he couldn't make love to. He closed his eyes. More than any­thing in this world, he wanted this woman to be happy. He'd give her anything, do anything to make her happy. Even if it made his own life hell. ~ Lorraine Heath

I would not for my life destroy one star of human hope, but I want it so that when a poor woman rocks the cradle and sings a lullaby to the dimpled darling, she will not be compelled to believe that ninety-nine chances in a hundred she is raising kindling wood for hell. ~ Robert Green Ingersoll

I love trying out different cuisines. In Delhi, I love Megu at the Leela, and TK's at the Hyatt. I also enjoy Khan Chacha's rolls. In Mumbai, it's Royal China and Shiro. And in Bangalore, I like the food at Bricklane. ~ Virat Kohli

A mystical symphony permeates my senses and a holy lullaby embraces me. ~ Earthschool Harmony

They called it The Lullaby Room. ~ Ruth Harris

The music of cri-cri and cigales droned on in a hypnotic rhythm, punctuated by the occasional croon of the nightingale. I thought of lullabies and how as a child they would placate my disappointment that another day had ended. I was used to sleeping in strange places, and would always focus on sound to relax. In the pawnshop, it was the ticking of grandfather clocks or the tuning of antique instruments. In the thieves' den, it was striking of a match, the bubbling of a water pipe and the gentle murmur floating in off the streets. On the Wastrel, it was the wind or the creaking wood. It was important to me to find lullabies where I could. If death came with a lullaby, perhaps fewer men would fear it. ~ Meg Merriet

My mother sang me a lullaby,
my mother had not slept for a while,
her hands the same: craggy and agile.
the wooden ceiling emanated the same tie:
sulky fumes of disdain.
We were never given to forgetfulness,
We were occupied. ~ Ashfaq Saraf

It was an honor to work with Samantha Morton on this Casablanca-esque, silent-film-esque, Americana photobooth Woolworth's hay day period piece of surrealism/ realism/ story time tell-tale-ism, black and white 35 mm film, washed in strange light, over this love hate tune, heartbreak song, life-goes-on lullaby, The Last Goodbye. It's a doorway into the future of the fatal past-tense. Get it? ~ Alison Mosshart

Ask most kids about details about Auschwitz or about how the American Indians were assassinated as a people and they don't know anything about it. They don't want to know anything. Most people just want their beer or their soap opera or their lullaby. ~ Marlon Brando

I don't agree. The morning fog makes the graveyard beautiful, soft and sad as a voice humming a lullaby, but I don't tell her what I think. She'd call me a weirdo.
- Raven Smith ~ Rita Stradling

River gonna take me, Sing me sweet and sleepy,
Sing me sweet and sleepy all the way back home,
It's a far gone lullaby sung many years ago
Mama, Mama, many worlds I've come since I first left home ~ Robert Hunter

Sticks and stones may break your bones but words can break hearts. ~ Tim Minchin

Love is a divine lullaby ~ Ram Sai Nag

Well, it's true that I have been hurt in my life. Quite a bit. But it's also true that I have loved, and been loved. and that carries a weight of its own. A greater weight, in my opinion. It's like that pie chart we talked about earlier. in the end, I'll look back on my life and see that the greatest piece of it was love. The problems, the divorces, the sadness ... those will be there too, but just smaller slivers, tiny pieces. ~ Sarah Dessen

The mother sings a hungry song
Of blood and cracking teeth
She dances in the dark below
wants to pull us underneath

Her claws, they rise, they sway in dance
to the melody of screams
Her lullaby will never end
till the world comes apart at the seams ~ Amy Lukavics

How long can I be a wall, keeping the wind off?
How long can I be
Gentling the sun with the shade of my hand,
Intercepting the blue bolts of a cold moon?
The voices of loneliness, the voices of sorrow
Lap at my back ineluctably.
How shall it soften them, this little lullaby? ~ Sylvia Plath

At night, every living thing competes for a chance to be heard. The crickets and frogs call out. Sometimes, there's the soft who-whoo of an owl lost amid the pines. Even the dogs won't rest until they've howled at the moon. But the crickets always win, long after the frogs stop croaking and the owl has found its way home. Long after the dogs have lain down losing the battle against sleep, the crickets keep going as though they know their song is our lullaby. ~ Jacqueline Woodson

He heard a soft voice calling him and turned towards it, trying to focus the vision before him. It wasn't his mother. If he weren't so tired, he would have smiled. He hadn't expected to find an angel in Hell.
The angel, her image blurred, a whiteness surrounding her, would understand. The angel would know.
"Why couldn't she love me?" he asked. The angel's answer was garbled. He strained to understand the words, not all his senses failed him as he slipped back into the abyss on the edge of Hell.
And the angel knelt down beside the bed and wept. ~ Lorraine Heath