"Where music dwells Lingering, and wandering on as loth to die: Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof That they were born for immortality."

"Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark."

"Soft is the music that would charm forever: The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly."

"Sweetest melodies Are those that are by distance made more sweet."

"The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more."

"Thank you. If you appreciate the tuning so much, I hope you'll enjoy the playing more."

"The lively Shadow-World of Song."

"Bring the good old bugle, boys! we'll sing another song— Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along— Sing it as we used to sing it, fifty thousand strong, While we were marching through Georgia."

"A careless song, with a little nonsense in it now and then, does not mis-become a monarch."

"Soft words, with nothing in them, make a song."

"Martem accendere cantu."

"Swift, swift, and bring with you Song's Indian summer!"

"Grasshopper to grasshopper, ant to ant is dear, Hawks love hawks, but I the muse and song."

"Cicala to cicala is dear, and ant to ant, and hawks to hawks, but to me the muse and song."

"Cantilenam eandem canis."

"Short swallow-flights of song, that dip Their wings in tears, and skim away."

"They sang of love and not of fame; Forgot was Britain's glory; Each heart recalled a different name, But all sang "Annie Laurie.""

"Because the gift of Song was chiefly lent, To give consoling music for the joys We lack, and not for those which we possess."

"Knitting and withal singing, and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to work."

"Songs consecrate to truth and liberty."

"I deeply felt that song should make One universal link, Uniting, for each other’s sake, All those who feel and think."

"Song opens a window to the secret places of the soul."

"I hate a song that makes you think that you are not any good. I hate a song that makes you think that you are just born to lose. Bound to lose. No good to nobody. No good for nothing. Because you are too old or too young or too fat or too slim too ugly or too this or too that. Songs that run you down or poke fun at you on account of your bad luck or hard traveling. … I am out to fight those songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood. I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work. And the songs that I sing are made up for the most part by all sorts of folks just about like you. I could hire out to the other side, the big money side, and get several dollars every week just to quit singing my own kind of songs and to sing the kind that knock you down still farther and the ones that poke fun at you even more and the ones that make you think you've not any sense at all. But I decided a long time ago that I'd starve to death before I'd sing any such songs as that. The radio waves and your movies and your jukeboxes and your songbooks are already loaded down and running over with such no good songs as that anyhow."

"My songs has been my messages that I tried to scatter across the back sides and along the steps of the fire escapes and on the window sills and through the dark halls."

"Sing a song of sixpence."

"And heaven had wanted one immortal song."

"The best days of the church have always been its singing days."

"[M]aybe you will learn this when I'm gone: My song will carry on."

"It is best of all trades, to make songs, and the second best to sing them."

"What is not worth saying sounds very well when it is sung."

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

"Song forbids victorious deeds to die."

"Builders, raise the ceiling high, Raise the dome into the sky, Hear the wedding song! For the happy groom is near, Tall as Mars, and statelier, Hear the wedding song!"

"Etiam singulorum fatigatio quamlibet se rudi modulatione solatur."

"Odds life! must one swear to the truth of a song?"

"I think, whatever mortals crave, With impotent endeavor, A wreath—a rank—a throne—a grave— The world goes round forever; I think that life is not too long, And therefore I determine, That many people read a song, Who will not read a sermon."

"She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with pity: and when winter evenings fall early (sitting at her merry wheel), she sings a defiance to the giddy wheel of fortune … and fears no manner of ill because she means none."

"And grant that when I face the grisly Thing, My song may trumpet down the gray Perhaps Let me be as a tune-swept fiddlestring That feels the Master Melody—and snaps."

"Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer."

"The song on its mighty pinions Took every living soul, and lifted it gently to heaven."

"In the ink of our sweat we will find it yet, The song that is fit for men!"

"We are tenting tonight on the old camp ground, Give us a song to cheer."

"He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute, In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans merci.""

"Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound; She feels no biting pang the while she sings, Nor as she turns the giddy wheel around, Revolves the sad vicissitudes of things."

"A song of hate is a song of Hell; Some there be who sing it well. Let them sing it loud and long, We lift our hearts in a loftier song: We lift our hearts to Heaven above, Singing the glory of her we love, England."

"Unlike my subject now * * * shall be my song, It shall be witty and it sha'n't be long!"

"I can not sing the old songs now! It is not that I deem them low, 'Tis that I can't remember how They go."

"All this for a song."

"I cannot sing the old songs Though well I know the tune, Familiar as a cradle-song With sleep-compelling croon; Yet though I'm filled with music, As choirs of summer birds, "I cannot sing the old songs"— I do not know the words."