I will not promote other people’s songs big time. I will just mention that I produced the song to get the credit I think I deserve.

And when all your faith is gone let it be me, if it’s a friend you need let it be me

I always like a good song: puts me in a good mood.

There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold’stBut in his motion like an angel sings,Still quiring [making music] to the young-eyed cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls,But whilst this muddy vesture of decayDoth grossly...

It took me 29 years to finish that song. That’s a typical Jardine move.

If you call attention to yourself at the expense of the song, that’s the cardinal sin.

I wouldn’t be surprised if poetry – poetry in the broadest sense, in the sense of a world filled with metaphor, rhyme, and recurring patterns, shapes, and designs – is how the world works. The...

His own opinion, which he does not air, is that the origin of speech lie in song, and the origins of song in the need to fill out with sound the overlarge and rather empty...

Songs are memories… Either u smile or get a tear in your eyes..

Here is the soundless cypress on the lawn:It listens, listens. Taller trees beyondListen. The moon at the unruffled pondStares. And you sing, you sing.That star-enchanted song falls through the airFrom lawn to lawn down terraces...

I’d like to add her initial to my monogram…

The title song of David Bowie’s ‘Young Americans’ is one of his handful of classics, a bizarre mixture of social comment, run-on lyric style, English pop and American soul.

One of them would definitely be the Nelson Mandela gig, when I played the tribute song for him. He was up and dancing, and he really enjoyed it. It was a really lovely occasion.

I’m tired of feeling like I’m fucking crazy.I’m tired of driving till I see stars in my eyes.

When you choose your life, ignore people, when you make it in life, remember some friends, when you sing a song, praise your source, when predicaments arises, stand your ground.

You held me down, but I got upHey!Alrighty brushing off the dust You hear my voice You hear that soundLike thunder gonna shake the ground-Roar

When we feel, a kind of lyric is sung in our heart. When we think, a kind of music is played in our mind. In harmony, both create a beautiful symphony of life.

You own me with whispers like poetry.Your mouth is a melody I memorize.

I don’t know if a song is going to be a hit or it’s going to flop. I never know. I just do the music and if people like it, they like it.

If you are not happy with the song, don’t sing it. Simple as that – no-one forces you to do it.

When I play live, it’s a conversation that we’re all having with the song, and the audience… their response and relationship with the songs is as valid as my relationship with the songs.

Some say an army of horsemensome an army on footothers say ships laden for warare the fairest things on earth.But I say the fairest sighton this dark earthis the face of the one you love.Nor...

Birds are sensitive to mispronunciation, even more sensitive than the French.

A great song should lift your heart, warm the soul and make you feel good.

Sometimes if a song hits me really good the first time, I get sick of it. And by the 10th time I’ve heard it, it’s just candy, and I don’t like it anymore.

Every song is like a kid. How can you have that many kids and have a favorite? Which one do I like to hang most with? Probably the one that I haven’t hung most with...

The paths of love is never smooth, can be rough but lovely

If you were to ask me what kind of musical sound I aspire to produce, that noise would be a wet nipple sliding across a cheese grater. I’m a sucker for love songs.

Every song is like a painting.

For several centuries what has passed for song in literary circles was any text that looked like the lyrics for a commonplace melodic setting.

If only, if only, the moon speaks no reply;Reflecting the sun and all that’s gone by.Be strong my weary wolf, turn around boldly.Fly high, my baby bird,My angel, my only

I just try to tell a story with a song, and be able to try to transmit the emotion to you. That’s all I’m really trying to do.

It’s weird because when you initially write a song, you write it with no understanding that the world is maybe going to hear it one day. So when you go into the studio, you don’t...

The hand on my hair moved to my back, and I realized someone was singing softly. The voice was familiar, and something about it made my chest ache. Well, that was to be expected. Angels’...

No man sings as beautifully as when his song is accompanied by a woman’s voice.

The sky is full of dreams, but you don’t know how to fly.

John will never forsake the weak and the helpless, nor fail to bring hope to the hopeless. That is what they believe, and so they do not worry. They go on and laugh and sing....

I was five years old when I wrote my first song. It was out of longing for my father that I wrote it.

When you’re watching ‘Armageddon,’ and the Aerosmith song starts… Super funny.

They sang the words in unison, yet somehow created a web of sounds with their voices. It was like hearing a piece of fabric woven with all the colors of a rainbow. I did not...

In the high tide or low tide, I’m gonna be your friend… I’m gonna be your friend!

I’m definitely a guitar player, but it’s the last thing I listen to in a song, after the singer and the drums.

Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that...

When I put out my first mixtape, ’50 Cent is the Future,’ it was the first tape where an artist did the entire tape in song format.

Grandma Got Herpes—For A Discount”.

Every song deserves lyrics. Deserves a story to tell.

And I’m not saying it’s a bad song, you know, or anything like that. All I’m saying is that if you get, I don’t know, a broom, say, and dip it in some brake fluid,...

I’ve forgotten lines all the time. Sometimes I switch verses in a song. It’s just hard not to when you’re doing the same thing all the time.

The bird music sank into her, like a song you used to know but forgot long ago. You hear a piano play it some day, and for a minute you feel a happy pain, but...

Her voice was caught in the shell of my ear, as if it were the ocean.