A Quote by Jimmy Scott
I grew to see my affliction as my gift. When I sang, I soared. I could soar higher than all those hurts aimed at my heart. All I needed was the courage to be me.
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The Scarecrow needed a brain, the Tin Man needed a heart, and the other dude needed courage. I need love. You feel me?
Did He give me the gift of love to say who I could choose? When God made me did He give me the gift of voice so some could silence me? Did he give me the gift of vision not knowing what I might see? Did he give me the gift of compassion to help my fellow man?
Come back again, old heart! Ah me! Methinks in those thy coward fears There might, perchance, a courage be, That fails in these the manlier years; Courage to let the courage sink, Itself a coward base to think, Rather than not for heavenly light Wait on to show the truly right.
Oh, that we could but convince men and women that murmuring spirit is a greater evil than any affliction, whatever the affliction!
Luther Vandross was a musician who sang. So after a while he was also the number one background singer in New York, so he would sing for Bette Midler, he sang on "Fame," he sang for David Bowie, he sang for - whoever needed backgrounds, he would arrange the parts and hook your record up. He also sang on commercials. McDonald's, Budweiser.
We looked at each other, and I could see in those big reddened eyes that he was not going to scream. He was full of anger - and who could blame him? - but he was no fool. He needed me, and he wanted me here, if only to insult me.
I decided.. that I could go on being scared forever, that I could keep walking, that I could carry my rage around, hot and heavy in my chest forever. But maybe there was another way. You have everything you need, my mother had told me. And maybe all I needed was the courage to admit that what I needed was someone to lean on.
Before the heart attack, I used to do a lot of work - what's needed and what's not needed. I used to sing songs that leave an impact and those that didn't. I could never say 'No.' Now, I have learnt to say it, though, and believe me, it has not been easy to do so.
It hurts more than anything in the world because even though it might not be the case, it feels like you've chosen your child over me. 'I haven't there is no choice. She's part of me. You're part of me too. It's like...I don't know...asking me to pick between my heart and my lungs.' 'I know, but the thing is, you are my heart and my lungs. You're everything to me. And what hurts is that I know i used to be everything to you.
The higher we soar the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly.
When I harnessed its seemingly uncontrollable might, I realized bipolar disorder's powers could be used for good. My diagnosis didn't have to be an affliction. It could simply be the gift of extraordinary emotions.
Growing up from Nirvana to all the bands I was listening to at the teenage time, those were my best friends, more than my real friends. Those were the people that sang me to sleep or gave me the confidence I needed to go to first period. When we're all so insecure with weird stuff, when we're having weird feelings toward girls or guys, or whatever. It's the insecurity of life that we all go through. So music helped me.
Out of the night Hopper came, and Perrin was one with the wolf. Hopper, the cub who had watched the eagles soar, and wanted so badly to fly through the sky as the eagles did. The cub who hopped and jumped and leaped until he could leap higher than any other wolf, who never lost the cub's yearning to soar through the sky. [...] Something crashed into his head, and as he fell, he did not know if it was Hopper or himself who died.
God spoke to me clearly and said, 'Did I give my son Jesus on the cross expecting nothing in return?' God bankrupted heaven and gave the best gift he could give. He gave the best offering he could give. What did God need? He needed sons and daughters, he gave the very thing he needed. You can bring God a gift fully expecting something in return. Get to the phone!'
All through the deep blue night The fountain sang alone; It sang to the drowsy heart of the satyr carved in stone. The fountain sang and sang But the satyr never stirred- Only the great white moon In the empty heaven heard.
Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
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