#singin

The artists who stand out to me have a passion for what they do. There are a lot of people who can sing. It's just like when you go to church and people are singing because it sounds good, not because it feels good. There's a difference. ↗

— Jill Scott

#because #church #difference #feels #go

I was never interested in singing in the church choir or in school. I was more interested in becoming a musician. ↗

— Cassandra Wilson

#choir #church #i #interested #more

She had a woman’s swagger at twelve-and-a-half. Hair: strawberry-blonde, and I vaguely recall a daisy in the crook of her ear. She was an inch taller than me, two with the ponytail; smooth cheeks and darling brown eyes that marbled in luscious contrast with her magnolia skin; cream, melting to peach, melting to pink. She beamed like a cherub without the baby fat; a tender neck; pristine lips that would never part for a dirty word. Her body--of no interest to me at the time--was wrapped from neck to toes with home-made footie pajamas, the kind they make for toddlers, but I didn’t laugh; the girl filled that silly one-piece ensemble as if it were couture. ↗

— Jake Vander Ark

#paranormal #perfect-girl #puppy-love #singing #age

When I was a child, Mama had the best voice of all the members of the church. She had loved to sing. Her words had soared like an angel's over the swells of the organ. In fact, I now suspected, her entire theology had been taken from the hymnal. ↗

— Siri Mitchell

#hymns #music #religion #singing #beauty

If you really want to be totally accurate about it, the day that really changed Abby's life wasn't the day she discovered her power. It was the day Ben sang to her in the Telekinesis lab. ↗

— David Pogue

#abby-carnelia #ben #singing #change

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

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

I always thought I was singing American folk music. ↗

— Lonnie Donegan

#american #folk #folk music #i #i always

Shortly after this I was made a member of the boys' choir, it being found that I possessed a clear, strong soprano voice. I enjoyed the singing very much. ↗

— James Weldon Johnson

#being #choir #clear #enjoyed #found

To me acting and singing are worlds apart. ↗

— Emmylou Harris

#apart #me #singing #worlds