A Quote by James Grahame

How still the morning of the hallow'd day! Mute is the voice of rural labour, hush'd The ploughboy's whistle, and the milkmaid's song. — © James Grahame
How still the morning of the hallow'd day! Mute is the voice of rural labour, hush'd The ploughboy's whistle, and the milkmaid's song.
The only problem I had on The Voice, was wishing that we, as artists, could have had a stronger opinion in our own song choices. At the end of the day, it's still a vocal competition show and you want to sing the song that showcases your voice the best.
A verse of Scripture in the morning, may become a blessing for all the day. It may sing in the heart as a sweet song, from morning until evening. It may become a liturgy of prayer in which the soul shall voice its deepest needs and hungers-amid toils, struggles, and cares. It may be a guide through perplexing tangles, Gods voice whispering cheer, a comforter breathing peace in sorrow.
You must learn to hush the demons that whisper, 'No one wants to read this. This has already been said. Your voice doesn't matter.' In the rare moments when the voices finally hush, you might hear the angels singing.
So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Hush, my darling! Hush, hush, Catherine! I'll stay. If he shot me so, I'd expire with a blessing on my lips.
I inscribe three lines, hush hush hush, into my skin. Ghosts trickle out.
The thrill of hearing your own voice recorded is still there, I still love it, going into the studio and thinking how can I sing this song and between the producers and the musicians you find a way of doing it.
I still believe that the voice as well as the body express a song together - that's my philosophy of performing a song.
We learn a language through its song, and even if you don't have music you have the song of people you love's voice, and you'll notice that song in their voice.
One should hallow all that one does in one's natural life. One eats in holiness, tastes the taste of food in holiness, and the table becomes an altar. One works in holiness, and raises up the sparks which hide themselves in all tools. One walks in holiness across the fields, and the soft songs of all herbs, which they voice to God, enter into the song of our soul.
A whistle in the dark is still a whistle.
What happiness the rural maid attends, In cheerful labour while each day she spends! She gratefully receives what Heav'n has sent, And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.
I feel much more physically connected to my voice, and I like the physicality of the voice, and how the voice can physically occupy a song.
Morning is an important time of day, because how you spend your morning can often tell you what kind of day you are going to have.
In the world of the Middle East at the moment, the debates are shrill. But ... the wisest voice of all of them may well be the voice of this mute thing, the Cyrus cylinder.
I wake up in the morning and I say 'Ahh! Today's the day for a song! I'm going to write a song today!' And I do. I write a song.
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