Violins Quotes

“I drew it over my skin like a violins bow, No one would ever hear the song of my shame.”

“I drew it over my skin like a violins bow, No one would ever hear the song of my shame.”

“For me,you are fresh waterthat falls from treeswhen it has stopped raining. For me, you are cinnamon that lingers on the tongue and givesbitter wordssweetening.For me, you are the scent of violins and visionof valleys smiling.And still,for me, your loveliness never ends.It traverses the worldand finds its way back to me.Only me.”

“'Tis God gives skill but not without men's hands: he could not make Antonio Stradivarius violins without Antonio.”

“To put it another way, pain is God's megaphone to rouse a deaf world. Why must it be pain? Why can't he rouse us more gently, with violins or laughter? Because the dream from which we must be wakened, is the dream that all is well.”

“Every single one of us can do things that no one else can do-can love things that no one else can love. We are like violins. We can be used for doorstops or we can make music.”

“Every single one of us can do things that no one else can do can love things that no one else can love . . . We are like violins. We can be used for doorstops or we can make music.”

“Hot damn. Cue the violins and happy cartoon bunnies. I was in the middle of a Disney moment. Because this guy was gorgeous. And we were standing so close to each other. If he hadn't been holding onto a barely contained rage directed at yours truly, it could have almost been construed as romantic.”

“To extend compassion to a so-called villain, to forgive those who have wronged you, and to find common ground with someone who has been awfully isolated are not acts typically met with fireworks and swelling violins. More often than not, they are pushed away. To love, really love, is to do them anyway.”

“ContrastsThe windows of my poetry are wide open on the boulevards and in the shop windowsShineThe precious stones of lightListen to the violins of the limousines and the xylophones of the linotypesThe sketcher washes with the hand-towel of the skyAll is color spotsAnd the hats of the women passing by are comets in the conflagration of the eveningUnity There's no more unityAll the clocks now read midnight after being set back ten minutesThere's no more time.There's no more money.In the ChamberThey are spoiling the marvelous elements of raw material("Contrasts")”

“While a kind man was working up the nerve to ask me on a date, I was working up the nerve to kill him with my bare hands”