Quotes
Quotes about Sin
That which is not worth speaking they sing. [Fr., Ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'etre dit, on le chante.]
Three merry boys, and three merry boys, And three merry boys are we, As ever did sing in a hempen string Under the gallow-tree.
Come, sing now, sing; for I know you sing well; I see you have a singing face.
The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation, And for the bass, the beast can only bellow; In fact, he had no singing education, An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow.
He who sings frightens away his ills. [Sp., Quien canta, sus males espanta.]
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.
I see you have a singing face--a heavy, dull, sonata face.
When I but hear her sing, I fare Like one that raises, 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.
Then they began to sing That extremely lovely thing, "Scherzando! ma non troppo, ppp."
He the sweetest of all singers.
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.
They sing, they will pay. [Fr., Ils chantent, ils payeront.]
Or did the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.
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 hand listening in their fall!
You know you haven't got a singing face.
O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear!
She hath made me four and twenty nosegays for the shearers--three-man songmen all, and very good ones; but they are most of them means and bases, but one puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes.
Sing again, with your dear voice revealing A tone Of some world far from ours, Where music and moonlight and feeling Are one.
"Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue," As some one somewhere sings about the sky.
'Twas slander filled her mouth with lying words; Slander, the foulest whelp of Sin.
And truly, I'll devise some honest slanders To stain my cousin with. One doth not know How much an ill word may empoison liking.
I will be hanged if some eternal villain, Some busy and insinuating rogue, Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, Have not devised this slander.
To murder character is as truly a crime as to murder the body: the tongue of the slanderer is brother to the dagger of the assassin.
I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
What means this heaviness that hangs upon me? This lethargy that creeps through all my senses? Nature, oppress'd and harrass'd out with care, Sinks down to rest.
