"Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night; Methought it did relieve my passion much, More than light airs and recollected terms Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times: Come, but one verse."

"I want no more than to speak simply to be granted that grace. Because we've loaded our songs with so much music that they're slowly sinking and we've decorated our art so much that its features have been eaten away by gold and it's time to say our few words because tomorrow our soul sets sail. ...I think so much these days about the great river, that symbol which moves forward among herbs and greenery and beasts that graze and drink, and men who sow and harvest, great tombs even and small habitations of the dead. That current which goes its way and which is not so different from the blood of men..."

"Listen to that song, and learn it! Half my kingdom would I give, As I live, If by such songs you would earn it!"

"I knew a very wise man that believed that * * * if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the laws of a nation."

"The farmer's daughter hath soft brown hair (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) And I met with a ballad, I can't say where, That wholly consisted of lines like these."

"I've now got the music book ready, Do sit up and sing like a lady A recitative from Tancredi, And something about "Palpiti!" Sing forte when first you begin it, Piano the very next minute, They'll cry "What expression there's in it!" Don't sing English ballads to me!"

"I love a ballad but even too well; if it be doleful matter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung lamentably."

"I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew! Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers."

"I have a passion for ballads. * * * They are the gypsy children of song, born under green hedgerows in the leafy lanes and bypaths of literature,—in the genial Summertime."

"A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy."

"More solid things do not show the complexion of the times so well as Ballads and Libels."

"For a ballad's a thing you expect to find lies in."

"Some people resemble ballads which are only sung for a certain time."

"Thespis, the first professor of our art, At country wakes sung ballads from a cart."

"Y'ought to hyeah dat gal a-warblin' Robins, la'ks an' all dem things Heish de mouffs an' hides dey faces When Malindy sings."

"If a singer knows only one song but makes the sound pleasant, he is indeed a singer! [...] When a singer's voice is sweet, he is indeed a singer."

"Sing, sing freely"

"Sing again, with your dear voice revealing A tone Of some world far from ours, Where music and moonlight and feeling Are one."

"But one puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes."

"Nay, now you are too flat And mar the concord with too harsh a descant."

"His tongue is now a stringless instrument."

"O! she will sing the savageness out of a bear."

"Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung With feigning voice verses of feigning love."

"Every night he comes With musics of all sorts and songs compos'd To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us To chide him from our eaves; for he persists As if his life lay on't."

"You know you haven't got a singing face."

"But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain. The wond'ring forests soon should dance again; The moving mountains hear the powerful call, And headlong streams hang listening in their fall!"

"Sweetest the strain when in the song The singer has been lost."

"O Carril, raise again thy voice! let me hear the song of Selma, which was sung in my halls of joy, when Fingal, king of shields, was there, and glowed at the deeds of his fathers."

"Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek."

"Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium."

"Ils chantent, ils payeront."

"God sent his Singers upon earth With songs of sadness and of mirth, That they might touch the hearts of men, And bring them back to heaven again."

"Sang in tones of deep emotion, Songs of love and songs of longing."

"He the sweetest of all singers."

"So she poured out the liquid music of her voice to quench the thirst of his spirit."

"Then they began to sing That extremely lovely thing, "Scherzando! ma non troppo, ppp.""

"When I but hear her sing, I fare Like one that raised, holds his ear To some bright star in the supremest Round; Through which, besides the light that's seen There may be heard, from Heaven within, The rests of Anthems, that the Angels sound."

"I see you have a singing face — a heavy, dull, sonata face."

"Olympian bards who sung Divine ideas below, Which always find us young And always keep us so."

"At every close she made, th' attending throng Replied, and bore the burden of the song: So just, so small, yet in so sweet a note, It seemed the music melted in the throat."

"Quien canta, sus males espanta."

"Ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'être dit, on le chante."

"If I cannot sing where there is death, then I cannot sing in life, because life is a continuous death."

"A singer … is no more than an actor set to music."

"Sing, sing a song Sing out loud, sing out strong Sing of good things not bad Sing of happy not sad. Sing, sing a song Make it simple to last your whole life long Don't worry that it's not good enough For anyone else to hear Just sing, sing a song."

"She loves to laugh; she loves to sing. She does everything."

"Among one’s human incarnations there is invariably found an incarnation devoted to rhythmic labor. Whether this be some sort of craftsmanship or music, singing or farm work, every man infallibly will cultivate in himself the rhythm which fills all of life. Upon learning of certain incarnations, people frequently are astonished as to why they should have been so insignificant. But in them there was being worked out the rhythm of labor. One of the greatest of qualities, this must be acquired through conflict and patience. 49."