music

You are the moon that breaks the night . You are the fear that I hate to fight. Times are wrong in all that is done. My treasure is love that I give to only one. Cherrish the treasures given to your heart and never let anything hurt from the start. You chose your path so accept and believe, that peace love and light are needed to breathe.

With my guitar, I could write my own stories, my own poems, and my own destiny. No one could take away the feelings, the emotions or the truth of my notes. They could hide secrets and provoke images of words that never should be whispered. I could compose the melody of my aching heart and write into it my own happily ever after since no one seemed to think after all my suffering I deserved one. That's okay, I would make my own.

I want to wake up ev­ery day I have left to the warmth of your lips on mine, the sound of your voice singing next to me, the feel of your fin­gers on my skin and your heart beat­ing mu­sic with mine.

If life throws you a few bad notes or vibrations, don't let them interrupt or alter your song.

I enjoy melancholic music and art. They take me to places I don't normally get to go.

Last night I did things my mother told me not to with the people I shouldn't see in the places that I should not go..

As long as music survives, poetry will never die.

Why would anyone pay for writing anymore when there's Facebook and why would anyone pay for music anymore when there's YouTube.

Those who wish to sing always find a song.

There was something about her playing... a knowledge of darkness in the most extreme form.

A song and a smile from someone I cared about could be enough to distract me from all that darkness, if only for a little while.

He had a bright, reckless tenor that was always wandering off, looking for notes in the wrong places.

Listening to the Fifth Symphony of Ralph Vaughan Williams is like staring at a cow for 45 minutes.

A doctor, a logician and a marine biologist had also just arrived, flown in at phenomenal expense from Maximegalon to try to reason with the lead singer who had locked himself in the bathroom with a bottle of pills and was refusing to come out till it could be proved conclusively to him that he wasn't a fish. The bass player was busy machine-gunning his bedroom and the drummer was nowhere on board.Frantic inquiries led to the discovery that he was standing on a beach on Santraginus V over a hundred light years away where, he claimed, he had been happy for over half an hour now and had found a small stone that would be his friend.

Doing what you love is freedom. Loving what you do is happiness.

If the music is amazing, you can get away with anything.

No matter how many people give me advice, I am going to do what my heart tells me to do

Scattered among these things are reminders that sound once existed: a metronome, a drumming pad, a guitar pick, a trumpet mouthpiece, a music stand, a tuning fork, a block of rosin...The older instruments bear the marks of those who have already played them, the scuffs and bites and dents that are the mysterious scars of sound. In their midst the house hangs, tenuous and enveloping, a sounding board waiting to be struck.