Singing Out Loud Famous Quotes & Sayings
47 Singing Out Loud Famous Sayings, Quotes and Quotation.
There's so much more subtlety to this new recording. There's a subtlety in the playing. There's also a subtlety in the way I approached the singing. The band was able to really capture the feeling of the songs and not really trade anything that we had sort of arranged for the live presentation, but the songs just aren't as loud.— Jason Molina
Singing when no one else is around is always good. I especially like belters. Good, loud singing is probably better medicine than half the stuff they sell in pill bottles, and it's cheaper, too. I also think people should never turn down an opportunity to hold a baby. There's something about the feel of a new baby in your arms that just fixes you.— Erin McKean
The lieutenant paused at the low, rhythmic hum sounding from inside the cabin, obviously loud enough for him to hear. Jena moved farther from the door. "What the hell is that?" he asked.— Susannah Sandlin
Jena lowered her voice. "It's Ceelie Savoie, chanting or singing or something." She paused, but couldn't resist adding, "She has some new chicken bones."
There was a long pause.
"Chicken bones. Golsalmighty." Warren sighed.
Rina!" I shouted, but the radio was up loud -something sad and gooey- and she didn't hear me. I hit the horn, twice, startling the minivan with a Pro-Choice sticker in front of me, which quickly changed lanes. We kept cruising neck and neck, with Rina full-out brawling now, singing along with the radio, tears running down her face, completely oblivious to both me and the speed limit. I reached under my seat and searched around until I came up with an empty plastic Coke bottle, which I then hurled at her windshield. she jerked back from the wheel as it bounced off, then whipped her around, eyes wide, and finally saw me.— Sarah Dessen
"Shit!" she screamed, hitting the automatic window control to open the one nearest me. "What the hell are you doing?
When we can't find my sister, we know / she is under the kitchen table, a book in her hand, / a glass of milk and a small bowl of peanuts beside her. / We know we can call Odella's name out loud, / slap the table hard with our hands, / dance around it singing 'She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain' / so many times the song makes us sick / and the circling makes us dizzy / and still / my sister will do nothing more / than slowly turn the page.— Jacqueline Woodson
We cannot get to our knowledge because the world is too loud. And we tend to make it louder as we cry out in pain, pretending we are singing.— Marianne Williamson
When loud by landside streamlets gush,— Robert Louis Stevenson
And clear in the greenwood quires the thrush,
With sun on the meadows
And songs in the shadows
Comes again to me
The gift of the tongues of the lea,
The gift of the tongues of meadows.
So when the earth is alive with gods,
And the lusty ploughman breaks the sod,
And the grass sings in the meadows,
And the flowers smile in the shadows,
Sits my heart at ease,
Hearing the song of the leas,
Singing the songs of the meadows.
Yes, she was the girl playing basketball with all the boys in the park, collecting cans by the side of the road, keeping secret pet kittens in an empty boxcar in the woods, walking alone at night through the rail yards, teaching her little sister how to kiss, reading out loud to herself, so absorbed by the story, singing sadly in the tub, building a fort from the junked cars out in the meadow, by herself in the front row at the black-and-white movies or in the alley, gazing at an eddy of cigarette stubs and trash and fall leaves, smoking her first cigarette at dusk by a pile of dead brush in the desert, then wishing at the stars— Davy Rothbart
she was all of them, and she was so much more that just just her that I still didn't know.
In the bonds of Death He lay Who for our offence was slain; But the Lord is risen to-day, Christ hath brought us life again, Wherefore let us all rejoice, Singing loud, with cheerful voice, Hallelujah!— Martin Luther
I know that I can sing really loud. It's like having that really big Evinrude engine on the back of your fishing boat. But I've been trying to be more dynamic with my voice, and not just singing on 10 all of the time out of terror.— Neko Case
But the best part of catching Neil in the shower was, hands down, the loud, awful singing.— Abigail Barnette
Long past sunset an old blind woman sat on a camp-stool with her back to the stone wall of the Union of London and Smith's Bank, clasping a brown mongrel tight in her arms and singing out loud, not for coppers, no, from the depths of her gay wild heart - her sinful, tanned heart - for the child who fetches her is the fruit of sin, and should have been in bed, curtained, asleep, instead of hearing in the lamplight her mother's wild song, where she sits against the Bank, singing not for coppers, with her dog against her breast.— Virginia Woolf
The most work he did on [the urinals] was to run a brush once or twice apiece, singing some song as loud as he could in time to the swishing brush; then he'd splash in some Clorox and he'd be through ... And when the Big Nurse ... came in to check McMurphy's cleaning assignment personally, she brought a little compact mirror and she held it under the rim of the bowls. She walked along shaking her head and saying, "Why, this is an outrage ... an outrage ... " at every bowl. McMurphy sidled right along beside her, winking down his nose and saying in answer, "No; that's a toilet bowl ... a TOILET bowl.— Ken Kesey
![Singing Out Loud Sayings By Ken Kesey: The most work he did on [the urinals] was to run a brush once or](https://www.greatsayings.net/images/singing-out-loud-sayings-by-ken-kesey-1844306.jpg "Singing Out Loud Sayings By Ken Kesey: The most work he did on [the urinals] was to run a brush once or")
Nowadays in pop, there's not a lot of men that are singing big and loud and high - it's not as common as it once was.— Adam Lambert
Throughout the hours of the night, though there had been few to hear it, the whole sky had been loud with the singing of these constellations.— Thornton Wilder
Golden girl, there you are. I'm singing for the crowd, the music's loud. I'm living my dream, riding the high, But I see you there, sunlight in your hair, And I'm ready to go, desperate to fly. Golden girl, there you are. Dancing for the crowd, the music's loud. I want you so bad. I can't look away. Later, you'll drop to your knees. You'll beg me please. And then you'll go, it's only your body I know. Golden girl, where'd you go? You're not there, with sunlight in your hair. I could have you in the bar or the back of my car, But never your heart. I'm falling apart. I'll drop to my knees, I'll beg you. Please. Please don't go. There's so much more I want to know. Eva, please. I'm on my knees. Golden girl, where'd you go? I'm singing for the crowd, the music's loud. And you're not there, with sunlight in your hair. Eva, please. I'm on my knees.— Sylvia Day
Basically I'm always singing about the same stuff whether it's in a loud or quiet outfit.— Mark Lanegan
I'd been studying the microphone for a dozen years, and I suddenly saw what I'd been doing wrong. I'd been singing too loud. One night I was listening to a record by Lester Young, the horn player, and it came to me. Relax, just relax. It's all going to be all right.— Marvin Gaye
Before I leave, the Eurotrash girl tells me she likes my gazelleskin wallet. I tell her I would like to tit-fuck her and then maybe cut her arms off, but the music, George Michael singing "Faith," is too loud and she can't hear me. Back upstairs I find Patricia where I left her,— Bret Easton Ellis
I'll be singing hymns to the rafters, be praising His goodness so loud they're going to have to turn down the volume in Heaven.— Diane Hammond
When they say Don't I know you? say no.— Naomi Shihab Nye
When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.
If they say we should get together.
say why? It's not that you don't love them any more.
You're trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees.
The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished. When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven't seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don't start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.
Walk around feeling like a leaf. Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.
Benjamin Lassiter was coming to the unavoidable conclusion that the woman who had written A Walking Tour of the British Coastline, the book he was carrying in his backpack, had never been on a walking tour of any kind, and would probably not recognize the British coastline if it were to dance through her bedroom at the head of a marching band, singing "I'm the British Coastline" in a loud and cheerful voice while accompanying itself on the kazoo.— Neil Gaiman
I am a child of God, therefore I don't have to be afraid or dismayed. I know God is with me. He will strengthen me, help me, and uphold me with His hand (Isa. 41:10). I am a child of God, therefore no weapon formed against me shall succeed. God will disprove every tongue that rises against me in judgment (Isa. 54:17 ESV). I am a child of God, therefore God is in my midst, a mighty one who will save me; He will rejoice over me with gladness; He will quiet me with his love; He will exult over me with loud singing (Zeph. 3:17). I am a child of God, therefore God's Word is there for me. It is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path (Ps. 119:105).— Lysa TerKeurst
Singing for stage, if you don't hear yourself, that's when you push, and that's when you can hurt your voice sometimes. So if I can hear myself in my ear, it really helps me to find that balance of how loud I needed to be singing.— Aaron Tveit
Intellectuals ponder, philosophize, interpret, and all this is essential to our shared experience, however, to feel the warmth of what lays at our feet within all that can be felt by the heart, is in an instant more powerful than mere words, we need to feel the words, capture the essence of what we see, and revel in the tastes of nature, and let ourselves allow our hearts to sing out loud, wild, and free.— Mark Donnelly
Even if I don't have the money to take vocal lessons, I'll practice in the house by myself singing out loud.— Christina Milian
At Snortin' Reformatory, a notorious Washington, D.C. jail located in the northern Virginia suburbs, The Afro-Anarchists were being thrown into a cell. It was a situation that the three of them, like many young black males in the D.C. area, had long ago come to expect as a rite of passage.— Donald Jeffries
As the door slammed shut behind them, Bucktooth spoke. "Man, Phosphate, they didn't read us our rights or nothin'."
"Yeah, Phos," Fontaine chimed in, "I didn't think they had to beat us, neither. And whoever heard of being charged with singing too loud and off-key in a public establishment? I don't believe there is no kind of law for that shit.
There's several ways of saying what's on your mind. And in states and counties where it ain't too healthy to talk too loud, speak your mind, or even vote like you want to, folks have found other ways of getting the word around. One of the mainest ways is by singing.— Woody Guthrie
Everybody else goes out and plays a show as if it's their album, which is boring. I'd rather sit at home and listen to the album, because I hate to be in a smoke-filled, loud room - that's not enjoyable for me at all ... I always look up to guys who can sit and do dinner music ... they're singing in tune and playing somebody else's music, and I don't think I could do that ... it's the shittiest job in the world.— Dweezil Zappa
sing so loud that the music— JaTawny Muckelvene Chatmon
drowns out the sounds of
the naysayers.
one day they'll be singing
your song.
Then all the winds of Heaven ran to join hands and bend a shoulder, to bring down to me the sound of a noble hymn that was heavy with the perfume of Time That Has Gone.— Richard Llewellyn
The glittering multitudes were singing most mightily, and my heart was in blood to hear a Voice that I knew.
The Men of the Valley were marching again.
My Fathers were singing up there.
Loud, triumphant, the anthem rose, and I knew, in some deep place within, that in the royal music was a prayer to lift up my spirit, to be of good cheer, to keep the faith, that Death was only an end to the things that are made of clay, and to fight, without heed of wounds, all that brings death to the Spirit, with Glory to the Eternal Father, forever, Amen.
imagine the desert— Beth Morey
mothers, with hair tangled
tighter than their theology
and breasts that flowed milk
and mystic wisdom. they
knew how to draw the singing
sigils in the sand, how to dig
rough and bitten fingers
into desiccated dirt for water
to wet the lips of their young.
women of hips and heft, who
learned how to burn
beneath the wild and searing
sun, who made loud love
against the star-flecked threat
of night, who knew that strength
is not always a matter of muscle.
imagine your ancestresses,
the prophetesses of the arid
lands, before these starched
traditions and pews too hard
to pray from, who bled true
ritual and birthed their own fierce
souls at creation's crowning --
I think a part of it was the way my parents raised me. I think that's part of being raised in a big Latin family. To get an adult's attention you have to do something crazy, and my way was dancing on tables and singing and dancing. That was my way of getting everyone's attention. I'm loud and I like being loud.— Becky G
I forget myself sometimes, but then I look up, as I am looking up now, and I see in my mind's eye a sheild, strangely changed by a rich encrusting of jewel-like barnacles and cold-water coral, with an eight foot tooth sticking right out of the middle of it. I reach out and the edge of that tooth is still so bitingly sharp after all these years that just a gentle brush with the fingers might send a rain of blood down on these pages. And I bend my head, not too close, and I am sure I can hear, very faintly:— Cressida Cowell
Once I set the sea alight
With a single fiery breath ...
Once I was so mighty that I thought
My name was Death ...
Sing out loud until you're eaten,
Song of melancholy blisss,
For the mighty and the middling
All shall come to THIS ...
The Supper is still singing.
My grandmother sang, too, and she was really loud. It was this wild kind of singing. I count her among my influences.— Cassandra Wilson
People used to complain to me all the time, 'I can't even hear you sing because your clothes are so loud.— Cyndi Lauper
But I was singing loud, and most singers weren't singing loud.— Little Richard
The familiar (if loud) churn of the engine made it hard to talk, especially with the windows open (the air-conditioning didn't work), but the day was warm and they blasted the music and sang along. Nessa loved singing at full volume. She couldn't carry a tune, but with Bree it didn't matter.— C.D. Bell
Wolves together stand howling soft and loud at light, singing family songs.— Sue Thoele
My angel-boy is close now, as in five-feet-away close. There's no way I'm going to burst into song in front of him. But then the contrary part of me says, you're going to let a boy keep you from singing out loud? Sing, sister! Sing!— Lauren Myracle
So I do, and my angel-boy turns his head.
The Sorrow of Love— W.B.Yeats
W. B. Yeats, 1865 - 1939
The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,
Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.
And then you came with those red mournful lips,
And with you came the whole of the world's tears,
And all the sorrows of her labouring ships,
And all the burden of her myriad years.
And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,
The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky,
And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves
Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.
I can appreciate that," says Henry. He's adding to the list. I look over his shoulder. Sex Pistols, the Clash, Gang of Four, Buzzcocks, Dead Kennedys, X, the Mekons, the Raincoats, the Dead Boys, New Order, the Smiths, Lora Logic, the Au Pairs, Big Black, Pil, the Pixies, the Breeders, Sonic Youth ...— Audrey Niffenegger
Henry, they're not going to be able to get any of that up here." He nods, and jots the phone number and address for Vintage Vinyl at the bottom of the sheet. "You do have a record player, right?"
My parents have one," Bobby says. Henry winces.
What do you really like?" I ask Jodie. I feel as though she's fallen out of the conversation during the male bonding ritual Henry and Bobby are conducting.
Prince," she admits. Henry and I let out a big Whoo! And I start singing "1999" as loud as I can, and Henry jumps up and we're doing a bump and grind across the kitchen. Laura hears us and runs off to put the actual record on and just like that, it's a dance party.
Everything about the hawk is tuned and turned to hunt and kill. Yesterday I discovered that when I suck air through my teeth and make a squeaking noise like an injured rabbit, all the tendons in her toes instantaneously contract, driving her talons into the glove with terrible, crushing force. This killing grip is an old, deep pattern in her brain, an innate response that hasn't yet found the stimulus meant to release it. Because other sounds provoke it: door hinges, squealing breaks, bicycles with unoiled wheels - and on the second afternoon, Joan Sutherland singing an aria on the radio. Ow. I laughed out loud at that. Stimulus: opera. Response: kill.— Helen Macdonald
And suddenly you started singing out your love for me. My name and everything, loud enough to reach the top floors of all the buildings. I should have told you to stop, but I didn't want you to stop. I didn't mind if your love for me woke people up. I didn't mind if it somehow sneaked into their sleep.— David Levithan
The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!— Will Ferrell
L The LORD your God is in your midst, n a mighty one who will save; o he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.— Anonymous
Did you just call me a hottie? And Jax isn't better looking than me. He's just famous."— Abbi Glines
Amanda let out a loud cackle of laughter.
"No brother dear, Jax Stone is hotness incarnate with or without the guitar and sexy as hell singing voice. You never stood a chance. He was what you call playing with the big dogs. This time you're definitely playing within your league.
