Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all
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And Nothing is very strong: strong enough to steal away a man's best years not in sweet sins but in a dreary flickering of the mind over it knows not what and knows not why, in the gratification of curiosities so feeble that the man is only half aware of them, in drumming of fingers and kicking of heels, in whistling tunes that he does not like, or in the long, dim labyrinth of reveries that have not even lust or ambition to give them a relish, but which, once chance association has started them, the creature is too weak and fuddled to shake off.
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Directions for Singing 1. Learn these tunes before you learn any others; afterwards learn as many as you please. 2. Sing them exactly as they are printed here, without altering or mending them at all; and if you have learned to sing them otherwise, unlearn it as soon as you can. 3. Sing all. See that you join with the congregation as frequently as you can. Let not a single degree of weakness or weariness hinder you. If it is a cross to you, take it up, and you will find it a blessing. 4. Sing lustily and with good courage. Beware of singing as if you were half dead, or half asleep; but lift up your voice with strength. Be no more afraid of your voice now, nor more ashamed of its being heard, then when you sung the songs of Satan. 5. Sing modestly. Do not bawl, so as to be heard above or distinct from the rest of the congregation, that you may not destroy the harmony; but strive to unite your voices together, so as to make one clear melodious sound. 6. Sing in time. Whatever time is sung be sure to keep with it. Do not run before nor stay behind it; but attend close to the leading voices, and move therewith as exactly as you can; and take care not to sing to slow. This drawling way naturally steals on all who are lazy; and it is high time to drive it out from us, and sing all our tunes just as quick as we did at first. 7. Above all sing spiritually. Have an eye to God in every word you sing. Aim at pleasing him more than yourself, or any other creature. In order to do this attend strictly to the sense of what you sing, and see that your heart is not carried away with the sound, but offered to God continually; so shall your singing be such as the Lord will approve here, and reward you when he cometh in the clouds of heaven.
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For we have thought the longer thoughts And gone the shorter way. And we have danced to devil's tunes Shivering home to pray; I take you now and for always, For always is always now.
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There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons-- That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes--
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There rise her timeless capitals of empires daily born, whose plinths are laid at midnight and whose streets are packed at morn; and here come tired youths and maids that feign to love or sin in tones like rusty razor blades to tunes like smitten tin.
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A lone carnival voice Sings tunes of nobody's choice, And on a vacant lot, Some one just forgot, Standing all alone, Turning on its own. Weary merry go round, Grows slowly into the ground, And faded circus acts, Sorrow broke their backs, And their sadness cries From their staring eyes. Still small children come And bring your harm of play, Spirits all alive To drive the ghosts away. Useless merry go round, Tomorrow they'll tear you down, To build the parking lot If it lives or not, It was just a toy, All it brought was joy.
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Human speech is a cracked cauldron on which we knock out tunes for dancing bears, when we wish to conjure pity from the stars.
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At a very early age I began to thump on the piano alone, and it was not long before I was able to pick out a few tunes. I also learned the names of the notes in both clefs, but I preferred not be hampered by notes.
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Language is a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, while all the time we long to move the stars to pity.
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I've outdone anyone you can name -- Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, Strauss. Irving Berlin, he wrote 1,001 tunes. I wrote 5,500.
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Virtue knows that it is impossible to get on without compromise, and tunes herself, as it were, a trifle sharp to allow for an inevitable fall in playing.
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Good tunes are good tunes, be it rock, disco, or polka.
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A genuinely free and educated man should be able to tune himself, as one tunes a musical instrument, absolutely arbitrarily, at his convenienc...
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When I found the music of Monk I finally found music that fit that horn. Every one of his tunes fit it perfectly.
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Why should the devil have all the good tunes?
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The age of a woman doesn't mean a thing. The best tunes are played on the oldest fiddles.
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