Mic Quotes

“Jean smirked, and delicately swirled the mic in his hands, careful not to make a sound. “Oui. C’est normal. C'est pas spécial. I will give you something worthy of Holmes.” Jean set down the mic and proceeded toward the couple. As he approached them, he fiddled with his mustache for a moment, and then pulled it sharply. He winced at the sensation. “I have it,” he declared confidently. “You sir, are a thief.”

“Jean smirked, and delicately swirled the mic in his hands, careful not to make a sound. “Oui. C’est normal. C'est pas spécial. I will give you something worthy of Holmes.” Jean set down the mic and proceeded toward the couple. As he approached them, he fiddled with his mustache for a moment, and then pulled it sharply. He winced at the sensation. “I have it,” he declared confidently. “You sir, are a thief.”

“Dee checks to make sure his mic is turned off. ‘It’s not about common sense.’ Dee surveys the crowd with some pride.Dum also checks to make sure his mic is off. ‘It’s not about logic or practicality or anything that makes a remote amount of sense.’ He sports a wide grin.‘That’s the whole point of a talent show,’ says Dee, doing a spin onstage. ‘It’s illogical, chaotic, stupid, and a whole hell of a lot of fun.’ Dee nods to Dum. ‘It’s what sets us apart from monkeys. What other species puts on talent shows?”

“Nothing that is will always be.- Open Mic Singer”

“How can I have my 15 minutes of fame when open mics only allow you to perform for 10 minutes.”

“Harmony is everything, your central nervous system can bear witness to that in every area of your life...if you let your soul step to the open MIC!”

“When I performed at 'Open Mic U.K.' I had this connection with the audience that I'd never felt before, and I loved it. It was my first big thing, and looking out into the crowd... was just amazing.”

“I went to a performance-art high school, and a teacher there was signing me up for open-mic nights at the comedy club. I think about it now, and I think, 'Well, that may be inappropriate,' but it was great!'”

“His body walks out onto the darkened stage , and a roar goes up from the crowd. He stands in front of the mic, and he can feel his face twist in a sneer-the Elvis sneer from his dreams-though he never told it to move. He is powerless now, a spectator at his own moment of glory.”

“When I was in school, I wanted to be W. Eugene Smith. He was a legendary staffer at Life, a consummate photojournalist, and an architect of the photo essay. He was also kinda crazy.That was obvious when he came to lecture at Syracuse University and put a glass of milk and a glass of vodka on the lectern. Both were gone at the end of the talk. He was taking questions and I was in the front row, hanging on every word.Mr. Smith, is the only good light available light?” came the question.He leaned into the microphone. “Yes,” he baritoned, and paused.A shudder ran through all of us. That was it! No more flash! God’s light or nothing!But then he leaned back into the mic, “By that, I mean, any &*%%@$ light that’s available.”Point taken.”

“Hopeful dreams - even where crack kings’ and dope fiends feast. Dust from the ash and rubble”