Bluegrass Love Quotes

Bluegrass lyrics are almost always about death, loss, and unrequited love, but the music – the noise we make with out banjos and our fiddles – is joyful. The dead are always with us, even after their ghosts move on, but it's the life pulsing through our veins that makes the music.

Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers of my palms tell me so. Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish at the same time. I think praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think staying up and waiting for paintings to sigh is science. In another dimension this is exactly what's happening, it's what they write grants about: the chromodynamics of mournful Whistlers, the audible sorrow and beta decay of Old Battersea Bridge. I like the idea of different theres and elsewheres, an Idaho known for bluegrass, a Bronx where people talk like violets smell. Perhaps I am somewhere patient, somehow kind, perhaps in the nook of a cousin universe I've never defiled or betrayed anyone. Here I have two hands and they are vanishing, the hollow of your back to rest my cheek against, your voice and little else but my assiduous fear to cherish. My hands are webbed like the wind-torn work of a spider, like they squeezed something in the womb but couldn't hang on. One of those other worlds or a life I felt passing through mine, or the ocean inside my mother's belly she had to scream out. Here, when I say I never want to be without you, somewhere else I am saying I never want to be without you again. And when I touch you in each of the places we meet, in all of the lives we are, it's with hands that are dying and resurrected. When I don't touch you it's a mistake in any life, in each place and forever.

Paige, sweetheart, I love you with all my heart. Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight, but then again, maybe it was. Maybe we made each other so mad because we knew, deep down, that we belong together. It just took our heads a little while to catch up with our hearts.

And I love you." "Remember the night we sat here, and I fed you all the clues the future Em had given me to convince you I was legit? The bluegrass, the belly ring-" "The designated hitter?" "Yes." He grinned. "Hmph." "What else did I tell you?" "That you had a teddy bear named Rupert." He rolled his eyes. "About you, and the first time I saw you." Answering made me feel shy, but I did it anyway. "That I said I would take your breath away the first time you saw me." I was still holding his face, and he reached up to put his hands over mine. "You did it then. And you just did it again." His kiss was sweet, soft, and easy at first. I felt urgency stir just under the surface, but I refused to let the desire to hurry things interfere in the moment. I wanted to savor every single one. We had all the time in the world. My brother's voice floated down from the open window. "Emerson!" Well, as son as my grounding was over, we had all the time in the world.

He was kind of like a big puppy dog that just wanted to be loved but tended to hump your leg to get your attention.

In time, the aliens would come to understand almost everything about us—our ceaseless yearning, our habit of wandering, how we love the feeling of the sun’s light on our skin. At last, they would have only one question remaining: “We have noted that there is a green god that you keep in front of and behind your houses, and we have seen how you are devoted to the care of this ornamental plant god. You call it Kentucky bluegrass, although it is neither blue nor from Kentucky. Here is what we are wondering: Why do you worship this species? Why do you value it over all the other plants?

Someday we’ll find the one we cannot live without. The perfect man who will love us both,” Gia giggled as she wrapped Gemma in a hug. “He’ll make you smile and laugh and put up with you talking to me every day.

I wish I could have shown you that engineheart- the system of pieces and parts that moved us forward, that moves us forward still. One day, a few weeks after my son’s death, I took the bolt off the casing and opened it up. Just to see how it worked. Opening that heart was like the opening the first page of a book- there were characters (me, the Memory of My Father), there was rhythm and chronology, I saw, in the images, old roads I’d forgotten- and scenes from stories where the VW was just a newborn. I do know that it held a true translation: miles to words, words to notes, notes to time. It was the HEART that converted the pedestrian song of Northampton to something meaningful, and it did so via some sort of fusion: the turtle that howls a bluegrass tune at the edge of Bow Lake becomes a warning in the VW heart…and that’s just the beginning- the first heart layer. It will take years and years of study, and the energy of every single living thing, to understand the tiny minds and roads in the subsequent layers, the mechanics at work to make every single heartmoment turn together… The point is, this WAS always the way it was supposed to be. Even I could see that the Volkswagen heart was wired for travel-genetically coded. His pages were already written-as are mine and yours. Yes, yours too! I am looking into your eyes right now and I am reading your life, and I am excited/sorry for what the road holds for you. It’s going to be amazing/really difficult. You’ll love/loathe every minute of it!

Father Brian D’Arcy spoke of the love the locals had for Shay Hutchinson and described him as ‘an originator’ of country music in Ireland, who highlighted the musical links between the United States and Ireland: He wanted to sing and make people happy with this other American music which in turn had been got from the Irish anyway … so country music and Irish people … it’s natural that we would want to be part of country music because it was our music originally. It came out from the Celtic nations, from Scotland and Ireland, went out to America to the bluegrass hills and they still play bluegrass as Irish music to this very day … people like Ricky Skaggs and Bill Monroe are indistinguishable from Sean McGuire [a famous fiddle player from Tyrone] playing the fiddle.

It sure if terrific to be in the back seat of a car full of all the people in your affinity group, and as you zip down the center of the road the radio is going boodeley-boodeley-boo in some bluegrass heart song to open space, and, whoopee, you’re hugging all the committed girls who love you just as the boys love you but even more so, maybe, because Bug never forgot that a Swiss army knife, for instance, does everything well and nothing excellently; and to do something excellently a good navy surplus kelp-slitting blade is far superior to a thousand sawtoothed frogman’s specials; and a gun is worth a thousand knives; and a good friend is worth a thousand guns; and ten minutes’ bored talk about the weather with any girl is worth a thousand friends at your back on the Great Trek of 1836, at least at that time in his life, perhaps because until he joined the affinity group none of his friends had ever been girls; but now everyone was his friend, especially the girls (but he only thought that; he didn’t say it, didn’t want anyone to claim that he was a sexist).

Love happens. It’s what you do with it that matters. If you embrace it, it will give you a joy you have never known was possible. If you ignore it, it has the power to haunt you.

The people are more open and freer with their thoughts. While I love my country, I love the opportunities this country provides.

time is inconsequential when dealing with matters of the heart. You will find that if you love a person, truly love him, then you will love all of his faults just as much as all of his assets.

Our own bell hooks reminds us: “True resistance begins with people confronting pain . . . and wanting to do something to change it.” That is our story. It is who we are at our core. Rather than linger in our pain, we resist any notions of giving up, of throwing in the towel, of walking away from a challenge. We certainly know about challenges in Kentucky. We know what it means to be displaced from our mobile home communities. We know what it means not to have clean bathing and drinking water. We know the sting of discrimination based on who we love. We also know what community, love, and solidarity look like in action.

Tomorrow, our children will forge a future that is beyond our wildest dreams—a future that is built on community, love, and solidarity. In that future is a new and different kind of political representation. It is one that is born from a place of abundance—a place that values justice and the perspectives of young people, women, and people from different ethnic and racial backgrounds. We can get there. We can get to the place where we are all valued and loved for who we are and how we show up in the world. It is a big and bold vision of our future that we each deserve. We cannot settle. We are worthy of everything.

Unlike the stereotyped carousing, hotel room-smashing, self-destructive pop star, Monroe did not smoke, drink, or use drugs. But he did love women. Many of them.

Een van de gevolgen van verliefdheid is dat ik weer naar mezelf in de spiegel sta te kijken.

Performing at the Sea of Galilee, a huge full moon shining behind him, he launched into “Blue Moon of Kentucky” and the crowd came to its feet. He encored seven times that night. Bill had been pleasantly surprised that Jewish Americans like Gene Lowinger, Steve Arkin, and David Grisman had become his devotees; now he was happy, indeed profoundly moved, that Israelis loved and understood his music.

please let’s quit killing each other over books! Let’s move on to killing each other over bluegrass and salad oil and circumcision and predestination and foreplay and whose uncle is the right line, where the prepositions go, and what happens after we die. Those are worth fighting for. The book thing is just getting really old. Bawa Muhaiyaddeen says,