Music is good for everybody. They say it soothes the savage beast. Well, I think theirs a beast in all of us. So let's get some more music and soothe all the beasts out there.
Music soothes my savage beast. I got a beast in me running wild.
For it is most true that a natural and secret hatred and aversation towards society in any man, hath somewhat of the savage beast.
Music has charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak. I've read that things inanimate have moved, and, as with living souls, have been inform'd, by magic numbers and persuasive sound.
There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs.
Though music oft hath such a charm to make bad good, and good provoke to harm.
Music is the language of all. It tames the savage beast and allows us to get over heartbreak. It helps us express what we really want to say and it has the power to lift hearts and awaken our souls.
A criminal who, having renounced reason ... hath, by the unjust violence and slaughter he hath committed upon one, declared war against all mankind, and therefore may be destroyed as a lion or tiger, one of those wild savage beasts with whom men can have no society nor security.
There are many reasons, of course, why someone might snap their fingers and grin. If you heard some pleasing music, for instance, you might snap your fingers and grin to demonstrate that the music had charms that could soothe your savage breast. If you were employed as a spy, you might snap your fingers and grin in order to deliver a message in secret snapping-and-grinning code.
I like a lot of ratchet, trap music. Definitely 21 Savage. We need some music like that. ManMan Savage. A lot of the Atlanta scene. But Philly, too.
No beast is more savage than man when possessed with power answerable to his rage.
When lovely woman stoops to folly, and finds too late that men betray, what charm can soothe her melancholy, what art can wash her guilt away?
Hee a beast doth die, that hath done no good to his country.
The bourgeoisie is very fond of so-called practical types and novels with happy endings, since they soothe it with the idea that one can both accumulate capital and preserve innocence, be a beast and at the same time be happy...
The drunkard forfeits man and doth divest
All wordly right, save what he hath by beast.
He that hath a trade hath an estate; and he that hath a calling hath a place of profit and honor. A ploughman on his legs is higher than a gentleman on his knees.