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“Whether you are surrounded by the singing of a lamp or the sounds of a storm, by the breathing of the evening or the sighing of the sea, there is a vast melody woven of a thousand voices that never leaves you and only occasionally leaves room for your solo. (Letters on Life)”
― Rainer Maria Rilke

“I thought a voice had to be about your fluency, your dexterity, your virtuosity. But in fact your voice could be about your failings, your falterings, your physical limits. The voices that ring hardest in our heads are not the perfect voices. They are the voices with an additional dimension, which is pain.”
― Patricia Lockwood, Priestdaddy

“The only fault he found with her was that she did not sing at her work.
“Folks should always sing at their work,� he insisted. “Sounds cheerful-like.�
“Not always,â€� retorted Valancy. “Fancy a butcher singing at his work. Or an undertaker.”
― L.M. Montgomery, The Blue Castle

“I am this thing that needs to sing.”
― Leonard Cohen, Book of Longing

“Singing is of course a form of aggression. The wet open mouths and glistening teeth of the singers are ardent to devour the victim-hearer. Singers crave hearers as animals crave their prey. Intoxicated by their own voices they now roared it out, round and round, Gilbert's fruity baritone, Titus's pseudo-Neapolitan tenor and Rosina's strong rather harsh contralto. I shouted, 'Stop! Stop that bloody row!' But they went on singing at me, their bright eyes, moist with laughter, fixed upon me, waving their arms in time to the tune; until at last they wearied, stopped, and went off into another crazy laughing fit.”
― Iris Murdoch, The Sea, the Sea

“Queen Ariel held the nautilus and considered thoughtfully.
But the little mermaid didn't think. She acted.
Before she realized fully what she was doing Ariel had smashed the nautilus on a sharply faceted rock.
It didn't break like a normal shell. It shattered like a human vessel. Shards flew in all directions equally, unhampered by gravity or luck.
Ariel pitched forward.
She choked, no longer breathing the air of the Dry World. Her arms flailed up like a puppet's. Her torso whipped back and forth, pummeled by unseen forces. Something flew into her mouth, up her nose, and suffused her entire body with a heat that threatened to burn. It rushed into her lungs and expanded, expelling whatever breath she had left, pushing blood to her extremities, pushing everything out that wasn't it, leaving room for nothing else.
Ariel collapsed.
It was over.
It was like the thing, whatever it was, had been absorbed by her body and had now dissipated into her blood and flesh.
She took a breath. Her heart started beating again.
She hadn't been aware it had stopped.
She coughed. A few grains of sand came out.
And then she sang.”
― Liz Braswell, Part of Your World

“Hey, Ariel," Flounder called shyly. "Before you go... could you... could you sing that lullaby? The one you used to sing to me after I lost my mother?"
Her eyes widened. "Flounder, you haven't asked me that in years... even before I lost my voice."
"And I won't ask again! It's just that" - he looked around. Jona politely pretended to watch something out in the sea, over by the far rocks- "we're alone here. No one from Atlantica is going to hear us. I don't know when you're going to have another chance."
And Ariel, who lost her voice for years and had mixed feelings about singing for others, sang more sweetly than she ever had before, or ever would again. And no one heard but one fish, one seagull, the sand and the water and the evening breeze coming over the waves, and the rising moon.”
― Liz Braswell, Part of Your World

“I look through the old record collection my dad gave me. Stress relief. I shuffle through the albums feverishly and find what I'm looking for-the Proclaimers. I chuck it on and watch it spin. The ridiculous first notes of "Five Hundred Miles" come on, and I feel like going berserk. Even the Proclaimers are giving me the shits tonight. Their singing's an abomination.”
― Markus Zusak, I Am the Messenger

“Our bread was given, not earned. We had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do but sit there together, saying sonorous words in unison, listening to language we did not hear anywhere else in our lives. Take heart. Go in peace. Bear fruit. Although we could have sat quietly with Bibles on our laps and read these things to ourselves, we took turns reading them out loud to each other instead. The words sounded different when Kline read them than they did when Kathy read them. They sounded different from the mouth of a young mother than they did from the mouth of a widow. This was because the words did not come straight off the page. They percolated up through the silt and gravel of real people's lives so that the meaning in them was fluid, not fixed. Listening to one another read Holy Scripture, some of us learned what is meant by 'the living word of God.'

We also sang things we could more easily have said. The Lord be with you. And also with you. None of us would have dreamed of doing this in the grocery store, but by doing it in church we remembered that there was another way to address one another. Lift up your hearts. We lift them up unto the Lord. Where else did any of us sing anymore, especially with other people? Where else could someone pick up the alto line on the second verse of 'Amazing Grace' and give five other people the courage to sing in harmony? Sometimes, when we were through, we would all just stand there listening until the last note turned entirely to air.

We could even be quiet together, which was something else that did not happen many other places in our lives. Silence was so countercultural for most of us that it took a lot of practice before we could do it together.”
― Barbara Brown Taylor, Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith

“The words were incredibly sad, and, for an atheist like myself, entirely without hope or comfort, but still; it was our duty to sing them to the best of our ability, and to sing proudly, in honor of Sammy.”
― Gail Honeyman, Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine

“Writing is like singing. Everybody can sing. One only has to find the pitch that will fit the voice. Same with writing—finding the pitch that will fit the thought.”
― Psyche Roxas-Mendoza

“Down at the far end of the lake there’s a marsh that rolls wide and long with a thatch-work thicket of pristine cattails that gently sway in the lightest breeze. And the redwing blackbirds call from it, with their sweet and throaty melody finding its way across the lake’s expanse and listing into the adjacent woods of muscular oaks and graceful maples. And sitting in a boat on the lake’s expanse, I wonder what insanity would prompt me to focus on the fish I can’t catch, and not on the melody that I can.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“It's because a real and beautiful voice delicately rends the chest, discovered the heart, and holds it beating against a stainless edge until you long to be pierced utterly. For the voice is everything you do not remember. Everything you should not be able to live without and yet, tragically, do.”
― Ann-Marie MacDonald, Fall on Your Knees

“I wondered if maybe it was something else, like she was afraid that she could lose me to a song.”
― Justina Ireland, Dread Nation

“That was beautiful," she breathed aloud. Of course she had sung duets with the greatest mer singers, male and female, ones who were hundreds of years older than she with voices trained for as long. Somehow what she had just done with Eric was far more powerful and beautiful. All with no audience except for the sea grass, the water, and the wind.”
― Liz Braswell, Part of Your World

“Any breath brought forth and spun into full-throated song had undeniable magic in the making.”
― J. Tullos Hennig, Summerwode

“We heard that song three times now, i still don’t understand what they are really singing about though, probably something about being unimaginative.”
― Alain Bremond-Torrent, running is flying intermittently

“Her voice was like a portrait of her soul: wild as a fire, sharp as shattered glass, sweet and clean as clover.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

“We sing when we have too much time to just speak.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“Dying every day to live forever. Singing at midnight for the moon and the stars; as in the morning, to the sun rising, while it illuminates our party.”
― Alan Maiccon

“Without a song, life is a sad tune”
― Lailah Gifty Akita

“One heck of a middle C today. Felt like I was gorging on a chocolate eclair. Kaiser none too pleased - after all, I'm a soprano. Sopranos don't sing in chocolate.”
― Ann-Marie MacDonald, Fall on Your Knees

“Sat - sex is good for the voice. Why don't they teach you that in school?”
― Ann-Marie MacDonald, Fall on Your Knees

“Music dissolves misery.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita

“Singing dissipates sorrow.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita

“He was a physical creature, a silver man, suspended in space, skin sheening as Tongue’s singing winds streamed past.”
― Rich Shapero, Rin, Tongue and Dorner

“PROSTITUTION â€� AN ACT OF SEX (A POEM) BY ·¡.°Õ.±á…A±õ±·´¡

Hey young girl,
Why do you want sex often and often?

Oh! Dogs ate your placenta!
And now your clitoris is always itchy.
Hey little bro, why is your penis always nodding
Like a read headed agama lizard?
And you always want to insert it somewhere.
Lemme open your eyes to some things.
Girlie, to you, prostitution is just a practice

Of engaging in sexual relations for payment or benefits.
Hear this, prostitution is sexual harassment,
Sexual exploitation, often worse.
You become in your mind what your client does or says.

It is internally damaging and disgraceful as he uses you to learn various sex patterns
What he can’t do with the girl he truly loves.

From Backstairs Boogy to Deep Impact, from the Head Game to Arc de Triomp
And from Ladder Loving to the Pinwheel, from Electric Slide to Passion Propeller
He uses you like a public convenience � a toilet
After all, he pays for your ungodly service.
After being used as a sex-slave,
You’ll still suffer spiritually � what a pity.
Girl, remember when the act of sex takes place,
There is a spiritual union.
Brotherly, hear this, he that has sex with a prostitute
Becomes one body with her.
He leaves a part of his DNA in her.
Something a condom can’t protect you against.
Back to you, young girl.
You think sex is just pleasurable
You moan � f**k me hard, give it to me, Baby
Oh, I’m enjoying it.
Oh, I’ve almost reached orgasm

Then you cum and he cums � loba’tan!

You think it’s over, right?

You may not know � but he might
be using you to enhance his wealth

And your insufficient glory is depleting.
Bro, you have done it, ten rounds. Champion!
But what has gone out of you
If only you have a spiritual eye � then you will be sober.
Your sperm has been saved inside a black and red ritual calabash

She will use it to boost her fame. Bro, it is finished!
Wait, you think it is over, right?
What if you contract diseases � chlamydia, HIV and AIDS
If things fall apart, you tend to suffer on earth
And fire will burn you in heaven.
Na me talk ham � so, think ham oooo


Copyright @2019

·¡.°Õ.±á…A±õ±·´¡

All right reserved: no part of the publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any forms or by any means, electronically, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the poet -·¡.°Õ.±á…A±õ±·´¡ ([email protected])/+2348184171204”
― E.T.H...AIN

“Men often came to visit in the evening when the fire was burning in the hearth. Occasionally came Peter Laurenz the blacksmith, Paul Joachim the mason, Adam the linen weaver, Zacharias the tavern keeper, Mathias, Norbert, Jakob, and others. When there was a spinning bee at Witiko's house, maidens and weavers came with their spinning wheels to take part; some young men and youths also showed up such as Phillip the stirrup maker, Maz Albrecht, rosy cheeked Urban, Laurenz the blacksmith's cousin, Veit Gregor, Lambert the drummer, Wolfgang, Andreas, Augustin the piper and several others. At times the maidens sang, then the youths, then together or alternating stanzas. They always went home at the ninth hour.”
― Adalbert Stifter, Witiko

“Singing hymns brings healing to the heart.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita

“When we sing, we can do anything—change the world, bring peace, be our best selves at last. When we sing, our hearts can lift and fly, over the troubled waters and over the years.”
― Judy Collins, Sweet Judy Blue Eyes: My Life in Music