#singin

And all meet in singing, which braids together the different knowings into a wide and subtle music, the music of living. ↗

— Alison Croggon

#living #music #singing #song #life

If everyone started off the day singing, just think how happy they'd be. ↗

— Lauren Myracle

#music #singing #songs #life

Her singing always cheered him up. Life seemed so much brighter when she stopped. ↗

— Terry Pratchett

#singing #life

I tried to catch the eye of everyone around me who wasn’t a soprano I. I get it. First sopranos don’t feel this. You hear it, but you don’t feel it. You don’t know that those lowly peasants making a nice vocal cushion for you to step on had parts that were every bit as rapturous as yours ↗

— Stacy Horn

#life

I wish that life could be carefree, sunny, never cloudy- But you said that I would be in Your arms when things get crazy- so when the storm doesn't go away- I have decided to sing in the rain. ↗

— Moriah Peters

#singing #singing-in-the-rain #storms #life

I felt my mouth go dry, my throat constrict. What possible interpretation could Peter place on those words, other than that they were about him? - that the entire song was about him? ↗

— Jennifer Paynter

#jane-austen #love #mary-bennet #mortification #peter-bushel

Anything too stupid to be said is sung. ↗

— Voltaire

#music #singing #song #stupid #stupidity

While you’re singing something romantic, I can’t get the lyrics to ‘Love and Marriage’ out of my head, and that tune always reminds me of the jingle from Jeopardy. ↗

— E.A. Bucchianeri

#humor #humourous-situations #jeopardy #jingle #love

She sang, as requested. There was much about love in the ballad: faithful love that refused to abandon its object; love that disaster could not shake; love that, in calamity, waxed fonder, in poverty clung closer. The words were set to a fine old air -- in themselves they were simple and sweet: perhaps, when read, they wanted force; when well sung, they wanted nothing. Shirley sang them well: she breathed into the feeling, softness, she poured round the passion, force: her voice was fine that evening; its expression dramatic: she impressed all, and charmed one. On leaving the instrument, she went to the fire, and sat down on a seat -- semi-stool, semi-cushion: the ladies were round her -- none of them spoke. The Misses Sympson and the Misses Nunnely looked upon her, as quiet poultry might look on an egret, an ibis, or any other strange fowl. What made her sing so? They never sang so. Was it proper to sing with such expression, with such originality -- so unlike a school girl? Decidedly not: it was strange, it was unusual. What was strange must be wrong; what was unusual must be improper. Shirley was judged. ↗

— Charlotte Brontë

#empathy #expectations #expression #faithfulness #feeling

Let's sing our way out of this ↗

— Isabel Fraire

#musical-theatre #singing #music