Singing Quotes

“Have you ever heard somebody sing some lyrics that you've never sung before, and you realize you've never sung the right words in that song? You hear them and all of a sudden you say to yourself, 'Life in the Fast Lane?' That's what they're saying right there? You think, 'why have I been singing 'wipe in the vaseline?' how many people have heard me sing 'wipe in the vaseline?' I am an idiot.”
― Ellen DeGeneres, My Point... And I Do Have One

“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.”
― T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

“Popular culture is a place where pity is called compassion, flattery is called love, propaganda is called knowledge, tension is called peace, gossip is called news, and auto-tune is called singing.”
― Criss Jami, Killosophy

“Anything else?” asked Matthias.
“I like singing,” said Alys.
Wylan shook his head frantically, mouthing, No, no, no.
“Shall I sing?” Alys asked hopefully. “Bajan says that I’m good enough to be on the stage.”
“Maybe we save that for later—” suggested Jesper.
Alys’ lower lip began to wobble like a plate about to break.
“Sing,” Matthias blurted, “by all means, sing.”
And then the real nightmare began.
It wasn’t that Alys was so bad, she just never stopped. She sang between bites of food. She sang while she was walking through the graves. She sang from behind a bush when she needed to relieve herself. When she finally dozed off, she hummed in her sleep.
“Maybe this was Van Eck’s plan all along,” Kaz said glumly when they’d assembled outside the tomb again.
“To drive us mad?” said Nina. “It’s working.”
Jesper shut his eyes and groaned. “Diabolical.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“I...I sang," she whispered, "if that matters," and Karou felt her heart pulled to pieces. This Misbegotten warrior, fiercest of them all, had crouched in an icy stream bed to sing a chimera soul into her canteen, because she hadn't known what else to do.
The singing wouldn't have mattered, but she wasn't going to tell Liraz that. If Ziri's soul was in that canteen, Karou would happily learn whatever song Liraz had sung and make it part of her resurrection ritual forever, just so that the angel would never feel that she'd been foolish.”
― Laini Taylor, Dreams of Gods & Monsters

“Tucker: "Today we ran into a mama grizzly with two cubs at the ridge off Colter Bay and Clara sang to it to make it go away."

Mrs. Avery: You sang to it?

Tucker: Her singing is that bad.”
― Cynthia Hand, Unearthly

“If I cannot fly, let me sing.”
― Stephen Sondheim

“Nowadays what isn't worth saying is sung.

(Aujourd'hui ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'être dit, on le chante.)”
― Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais, Le Barbier de Séville

“He who sings scares away his woes.”
― Cervantes

“That's a nice song," said young Sam, and Vimes remembered that he was hearing it for the first time.
"It's an old soldiers' song," he said.
"Really, sarge? But it's about angels."
Yes, thought Vimes, and it's amazing what bits those angels cause to rise up as the song progresses. It's a real soldiers' song: sentimental, with dirty bits.
"As I recall, they used to sing it after battles," he said. "I've seen old men cry when they sing it," he added.
"Why? It sounds cheerful."
They were remembering who they were not singing it with, thought Vimes. You'll learn. I know you will.”
― Terry Pratchett, Night Watch

“Words make you think. Music makes you feel. A song makes you feel a thought.”
― Yip Harburg

“A choir is made up of many voices, including yours and mine. If one by one all go silent then all that will be left are the soloists.

Don’t let a loud few determine the nature of the sound. It makes for poor harmony and diminishes the song.”
― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

“There is another alphabet, whispering from every leaf, singing from every river, shimmering from every sky.”
― Dejan Stojanovic

“Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars, not if you care for such things.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

“I listened wide-eyed, stupid. Glowing by her voice in the dim light. If chocolate was a sound, it would've been Constantine's voice singing. If singing was a color, it would've been the color of that chocolate.”
― Kathryn Stockett, The Help

“Writing, painting, singing- it cannot stop everything. Cannot halt death in its tracks. But perhaps it can make the pause between death’s footsteps sound and look and feel beautiful, can make the space of waiting a place where you can linger without as much fear. For we are all walking each other to our deaths, and the journey there between footsteps makes up our lives.”
― Ally Condie, Reached

“When the Sun of compassion arises darkness evaporates and the singing birds come from nowhere.”
― Amit Ray, Nonviolence: The Transforming Power

“He threw his head back and sang, "'I am a centaur, yes, a centaur is what I am.' It's not like you to wax, Artemis"

"Foaly is singing," said Holly. "Surely that's illegal?”
― Eoin Colfer, The Atlantis Complex

“When an incidental color or a random fragrance takes possession of our imagination, we can unexpectedly blossom into a new entity as it gives us wings and enlightens our horizon, just like canary birds that feel stimulated and start singing as soon as they sense the radiance of the sun through the reflection of the skylight. (‘"Côté cour…Côté jardin" )”
― Erik Pevernagie

“I am not a finished poem, and I am not the song you’ve turned me into. I am a detached human being, making my way in a world that is constantly trying to push me aside, and you who send me letters and emails and beautiful gifts wouldn’t even recognise me if you saw me walking down the street where I live tomorrow
for I am not a poem.
I am tired and worn out and the eyes you would see would not be painted or inspired
but empty and weary
from drinking too much
at all times
and I am not the life of your party who sings and has glorious words to speak
for I don’t speak much
at all
and my voice is raspy and unsteady from unhealthy living and not much sleep and I only use it when I sing and I always sing too much
or not at all
and never when people are around because they expect poems and symphonies and I am not
a poem
but an elegy
at my best
but unedited and uncut and not a lot of people want to work with me because there’s only so much you can do with an audio take, with the plug-ins and EQs and I was born distorted, disordered, and I’m pretty fine with that,
but others are not.”
― Charlotte Eriksson, Another Vagabond Lost To Love: Berlin Stories on Leaving & Arriving

“Love, I find, is like singing.”
― Zora Neale Hurston

“If everyone started off the day singing, just think how happy they'd be.”
― Lauren Myracle, Shine

“Springsteen is the king, don't you think? I was like, hell yeah, that guy can sing.”
― Lana Del Rey, Lana Del Rey - Born to Die: The Paradise Edition

“And I do wish she wouldn't sing about poisoning just after we have eaten.”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“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, Shirley

“Then the singing enveloped me. It was furry and resonant, coming from everyone's very heart. There was no sense of performance or judgment, only that the music was breath and food.”
― Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith

“Her singing always cheered him up. Life seemed so much brighter when she stopped.”
― Terry Pratchett, Pyramids

“It was the only lullaby she would ever sing, and it was sung in Hell.”
― Laini Taylor, Lips Touch: Three Times

“Take that rage, put it on a page, take the page to the stage, blow the roof off the place.”
― The Script

“Each woman has potential access to Rio Abajo Rio, this river beneath the river. She arrives there through deep meditation, dance, writing, painting, prayermaking, singing, drumming, active imagination, or any activity which requires an intense altered consciousness. A woman arrives in this world-between-worlds through yearning and by seeking something she can see just out of the corner of her eye. She arrives there by deeply creative acts, through intentional solitude, and by practice of any of the arts.”
― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves