A Quote by Joanna Newsom

There are some mornings when the sky looks like a road. — © Joanna Newsom
There are some mornings when the sky looks like a road.
The witnessing soul is like the sky. The birds fly in the sky but they don't leave any footprints....[The] man who is awakened lives in such a way that he leaves no footprints.... He never looks ahead, he never looks back, he lives in the moment.
The largest room in the world is room for improvement. You know, some mornings my thighs are fat. Some days my hair looks great. That's the human condition.
You can't run forever. There's only so much pavement that the road makers lay down. After a while, the highway quits going north and it just turns into sky. And you can't go anywhere in the sky unless you have a plane or some kind of rocket.
I let my head fall back, and I gazed into the Eternal Blue Sky. It was morning. Some of the sky was yellow, some the softest blue. One small cloud scuttled along. Strange how everything below can be such death and chaos and pain while above the sky is peace, sweet blue gentleness. I heard a shaman say once, the Ancestors want our souls to be like the blue sky.
Edwina always enjoyed a morning ride. Some mornings she rode the horse, and some mornings she rode the groom.
The road to Manderley lay ahead. There was no moon. The sky above our heads was inky black. But the sky on the horizon was not dark at all. It was shot with crimson, like a splash of blood. And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea.
If you look up in the night sky and see this light that's flashing colors, that's Sirius. It's a star system, and it looks like there's a party going on. What I like to believe in my dreams and imagination is, there's some of us on Earth that come from there, indigos and star seeds, who are hyper ­sensitive to feelings and ­seasons.
Mitt Romney looks like a guy modeling briefs on a package of underwear ... He looks like a guy who goes to the restroom when the check comes ... He looks like a guy who would run a seminar on condo flipping ... He looks like he is the closer at a Cadillac dealership.... He looks like that guy on the golf course in the Levitra commercial.
When I first met you, that's what I remember. I looked up at the sky and thought, I'm going to love this person because even the sky looks different.
Sky of blackness and sorrow, sky of love, sky of tears. Sky of glory and sadness, sky of mercy, sky of fear.
Have you noticed how nobody ever looks up? Nobody looks at chimneys, or trees against the sky, or the tops of buildings. Everybody just looks down at the pavement or their shoes. The whole world could pass them by and most people wouldn't notice.
The leaf that spreads in the light is the only holiness there is. I haven't found holiness in the faiths of mortals, or in their music, not in their dreams: it's out in the open field, with the green rows looking at the sky. I don't know what it is, this holiness: but it's there, and it looks at the sky. Probably though this is some conditioning the Company installed to ensure I'd be a good botanist. Well, I grew up into a good one. Damned good.
There's a gang of boys on bikes blocking the road ahead. They've got their hoods up, cigarettes shielded. The sky's a really strange colour and there's hardly anyone else about. I slow right down. "What shall I do?" "Reverse," Zoey says. "They're not going to move." I wind down the window. "Oi!" I yell "Move your arses!" They turn languid, shift lazily to the edge of the road and grin as I blow kisses at them. Zoey looks stunned, "What's got into you?" "Nothing- I just haven't learned reversing yet.
What's your road, man? - holyboy road, madman road, rainbow road, guppy road, any road. It's an anywhere road for anybody anyhow. Where body how?
When a man meets catastrophe on the road, he looks in his purse, but a woman looks in her mirror.
I love the road. That's always been my goal. I've said that to many record labels. I want to make records. The road is my favorite. Some people hate the road, I love the road.
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