A Quote by Franz Schubert
When I wished to sing of love, it turned to sorrow. And when I wished to sing of sorrow, it was transformed for me into love.
Related Quotes
Sing, seraph with the glory! heaven is high.
Sing, poet with the sorrow! earth is low.
The universe's inward voices cry
"Amen" to either song of joy and woe.
Sing, seraph, poet! sing on equally!
Surely it is not true blessedness to be free of sorrow while there is sorrow and sin in the world. Sorrow is a part of love and love does not seek to throw it off.
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly, I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Leonore -
For the rare and radiant maiden who the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
I always think of my father when I sing arias about loss and love and longing. It gave me that definite deep sorrow that one can only get from life experience, you know?
As I traveled from one country to another, no one knew anything about me. So I could be anybody, I could speak as I wished, act as I wished, dress as I wished.
As I traveled from one country to another, no one knew anything about me. So I could be anybody, I could speak as I wished, act as I wished, dress as I wished
Pops, he was a singer's singer. I loved to hear my father sing. He just was so laid-back and cool. I always wished I could sing like Pops.
I love to sing big rock and roll songs; I love to sing country-pop stuff, and then I love to sing soft, sadder beautiful songs.
Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love; Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough. Sing about the long deep sleep Of lovers that are dead, and how In the grave all love shall sleep: Love is aweary now.
I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day.
Had you restrained your love, you would be free of sorrow. The greater the love, while one possesses it, the greater the sorrow when one is deprived of it.
From sorrow to sorrow love crosses its islands and establishes roots that are watered by weeping.
I paint my joy and I sing my sorrow.
I sing my sorrow, and I paint my joy.
I think my purpose was just to get out and sing. I love to sing. I wasn't even in it for the - you know, the prize. I was, like, 'Hey, man, I'm going to sing.'
I think my purpose was just to get out and sing. I love to sing. I wasn't even in it for the - you know, the prize. I was, like, 'Hey, man, I'm going to sing.
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