I am honored I have performed 'Quizas Quizas Quizas' with Jennifer Lopez, an eclectic artist who thanks to the charismatic power of her voice and to her soft sensuality, has managed to make this song particularly convincing.
Karen wasn't hard, she was soft, too soft. A soft touch. Her hair was soft, her smile was soft, her voice was soft. She was so soft there was no resistance. Hard things sank into her, they went right through her, and if she made a real effort, out the other side. Then she didn't have to see them or hear them, or even touch them.
The world is a better place because of Margot. Let us remember and give thanks for Margot, her brilliant mind, her loving heart, her beautiful voice, her activism, her writings, her news reporting, her other works, her magic, her bright spirit.
Drag, in my view these days, has become the thing it used to make fun of - which is Jennifer Lopez. Now we all want to be her. We have stylists; we have special photographers.
Jennifer Lopez, she's my girl! And Shakira... I really like her.
Hello Rush," she said, breaking the silence. The sound of her voice almost sent me to my knees. God, I'd missed her voice. "Blaire," I managed to say, terrified that I'd scare her away just by speaking.
When I hear that Jennifer Lopez is such a role model for Latinas, on the one hand I respect her for her business sense and I respect her for her ambition. But she's in the entertainment world. She's done it on her looks and very specifically on her anatomy. Madonna is also considered a great businesswoman and so is Yoko Ono. I feel if I had a young daughter right now, I would feel a little discouraged if that was my daughter's primary role model for success and for young people, for Latinas and Latinos.
somebody/ anybody sing a black girl's song bring her out to know herself to know you but sing her rhythms carin/ struggle/ hard times sing her song of life she's been dead so long closed in silence so long she doesn't know the sound of her own voice her infinite beauty she's half-notes scattered without rhythm/ no tune sing her sighs sing the song of her possibilities sing a righteous gospel let her be born let her be born & handled warmly.
I am not a historian. I happen to think that the content of my mother's life - her myths, her superstitions, her prayers, the contents of her pantry, the smell of her kitchen, the song that escaped from her sometimes parched lips, her thoughtful repose and pregnant laughter - are all worthy of art.
Jennifer Lopez has been very much in the news because of her divorce from Marc Anthony, also a top singer, a top player in Latin music, her joining the cast of judges on "American Idol." But the music has not been at the forefront.
Of Law there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world: all things in heaven and earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power.
I've always loved Jennifer Lopez, and I think, as an entertainer, she is a great example of a strong woman that is also very levelheaded and cool and produces her own content.
Jennifer Merrick had stored all her tears inside her, and her pride and courage would never permit her to break down and shed them.
Amy Winehouse was not a person I ever met, and I can't say that I am overly conversant in all of her music. I do have her albums, and years ago, when I first heard her sing, I thought she was extraordinary. The tone of her voice, her phrasing, her raw appearance - these qualities were extremely captivating to me.
Barbra Streisand has always been an inspiration for me. I admire Jennifer Lopez because she's been against all the odds, and she's made such a name for herself, and she can put her name on anything and it sells, and I admire that about her, but Barbara Streisand and Woody Allen are my favorites.
We used to have a bull. A real bull. At that time, Jennifer Lopez was my neighbor. God bless her, she took it. But other neighbors did not like it, that we have a bull.
She craved a presence beside her, solid. Fingertips light at the nape of her neck and a voice meeting hers in the dark. Someone who would wait with an umbrella to walk her home in the rain, and smile like sunshine when he saw her coming. Who would dance with her on her balcony, keep his promises and know her secrets, and make a tiny world wherever he was, with just her and his arms and his whisper and her trust.