Tambourine Quotes

“Mary, we met in a pub. As you weren’t banging a tambourine, I understand you weren’t selling the word of God.”

“Mary, we met in a pub. As you weren’t banging a tambourine, I understand you weren’t selling the word of God.”

“This is a day of celebration!Today, we are divorcing the pastand marrying the present.Dance,and you will find Godin every room.Today, we are divorcing resentmentand marrying forgiveness.Sing,and God will find you in every tune.Today, we are divorcing indifferenceand marrying love.Drink, and play that tambourine against your thighs.We have so much celebrating to do!”

“What do I sing, and what does my tambourine sing?”

“Actors are supposed to be these runaways that get in a covered wagon filled with hats and tambourines and go from town to town making people smile.”

“A gypsy girl approached Don Zana and Alfanhui and held out her tambourine. Don Zana said to her, 'You don't pay for art, kid.”

“Christmas is the marriage of chaos and design. The real sound of life, for once, can burst out because a formal place has been set for it. At the moment when things have gotten sufficiently loose, the secret selves that these familiar persons hold inside them shake the room...An undercurrent of clowning and jostling is part of the process by which we succeed finally in making our necessary noise: despite the difficulty of getting the words right, of getting the singers on the same page, of keeping the ritual from falling apart into the anarchy of separate impulses. From such clatter--extended and punctuated by whatever instrument is handy, a triangle a tambourine, a Chinese gone--beauty is born.”

“They found grace out in the desert, these people who survived the killing.Israel, out looking for a place to rest, met God out looking for them!"God told them, "I've never quit loving you and never will. Expect love, love, and more love!And so now I'll start over with you and build you up again, dear virgin Israel.You'll resume your singing, grabbing tambourines and joining the dance.You'll go back to your old work of planting vineyards on the Samaritan hillsides,And sit back and enjoy the fruit— oh, how you'll enjoy those harvests!The time's coming when watchmen will call out from the hilltops of Ephraim:'On your feet! Let's go to Zion, go to meet our God!”

“The summer ended. Day by day, and taking its time, the summer ended. The noises in the street began to change, diminish, voices became fewer, the music sparse. Daily, blocks and blocks of children were spirited away. Grownups retreated from the streets, into the houses. Adolescents moved from the sidewalk to the stoop to the hallway to the stairs, and rooftops were abandoned. Such trees as there were allowed their leaves to fall - they fell unnoticed - seeming to promise, not without bitterness, to endure another year. At night, from a distance, the parks and playgrounds seemed inhabited by fireflies, and the night came sooner, inched in closer, fell with a greater weight. The sound of the alarm clock conquered the sound of the tambourine, the houses put on their winter faces. The houses stared down a bitter landscape, seeming, not without bitterness, to have resolved to endure another year.”