My favorite type of music to sing would be between R and B and opera.
When I sing, trouble can sit right on my shoulder and I don’t even notice.
I only record songs that I really like and believe in and can sing with conviction.
I make sure I sing a cappella to let people know I can sing.
Sometimes I do ‘So Desperate’ solo in the middle of the set. I really love to sing that song.
My mom, grandma, great-grandma – we’re all named Mary, and we all play piano and sing.
Some people should have stopped singing in the 60s, even if they were born in the 80s.
I know what my job is: I write the songs, I sing them, I play them on the piano.
Suddenly, as one, all the Greys stop talking and gape at Christian. What? Christian is singing softly to himself at the piano. Silence descends on us all as we strain to hear his soft, lyrical voice. I’ve heard him sing before, haven’t they? He stops, suddenly conscious of the deathly hush that’s fallen over the...
Anyone who is having troubles should pray. Anyone who is happy should sing praises. Anyone who is sick should call the church’s elders. They should pray for and pour oil on the person in the name of the Lord. And the prayer that is said with faith will make the sick person well; the Lord...
Jonathan Drazen,” I said, squeezing his hand. “You’re a manipulative bastard, a brazen liar, and a sadist. You’ve brought me to my knees. You’ve dominated me. You’ve told me who I am and then challenged me to be it. If you made me strong enough to stand up to the world, let me stand by...
People who truly love to sing have to do it all the time.
Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated.
From my spirit’s gray defeat, From my pulse’s flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault’s slavery, If I can sing, I still am free.For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit’s sake, A house of shining words, to be My...
If movements were a spark every dancer would desire to light up in flames.