Good Playlist Quotes

I snatch the iPod from his hands and stuff it in the bag. “One Direction does some great harmonies.” “Strongly disagree.” His chin lifts decisively. “I’ll make you a playlist. Obviously you need to learn the distinction between good music and shitty music.

You think you know what love looks like. You think the fairy tales and the romantic movies prepare you. And then you finally, really truly find it and you realize you never knew a thing about it until her.” He shook his head. “She was every love song I’ve never been good enough to write.

I also feel fairly confident that the original Texaco Salvatore was a good family man, with perhaps a propensity for wearing his wife's panties and betting his kids' college money at the track, but otherwise a solid dude.

If he turns out to be gay, I will be furious. They get all the good ones!

A couple of hours later, I have a pretty good buzz going and the atmosphere in the room has become almost festive. Sophie’s holding court at the table, telling funny stories to me and Emma and Sharon, who, in the absence of any other customers, has made herself comfortable on a stool and left us to fetch our own drinks. Mike’s standing by the jukebox, putting together a playlist of old-time classics that’s already too long for us to get through before closing time. A few feet away, a decidedly wobbly Amy is standing in the middle of the floor with a pint-glass of wine and belting out the Bonnie Tyler classic Total Eclipse of the Heart. She’s getting the words wrong but singing it with gusto nonetheless.

And I’m left with this girl, this Siren of Mixed Signals, this Norah. She’s a fuck-good kisser, but clearly has some massive consistency issues. I ask her how the fuck she knows Tris, because that is leaving me completely confused, and at first she’s looking at me like I’m this guy she didn’t just start kissing out of nowhere, but then she’s got her hand on my arm in a way that makes me really notice I have an arm, and then she’s making to run away, and at the same time looking at me like I’m some cancer child. Then I take hold of her arm and she resists without really resisting. Finally she pulls away, only to touch my face in this way that reminds me exactly of her kiss.Then she calls me “you poor schmuck.

There’s only one hopeful chord in this cacophony, and it’s this girl I’m following. I know I could tell her to get a cab—I have a feeling she can more than afford it—but I like the idea of leaving with her and staying with her. She says good-bye to the club manager as we reach the door and are released onto the street. The sidewalk is full of smokers, talking or posing their way to ash. I get the nod from a couple of people I vaguely know. Ordinarily if I left with two hot girls, there’d also be some looks of admiration. Maybe it’s because of the clear anger between Norah and Caroline, or maybe it’s because they all think I’m gay—whatever the case, I get no more congratulations than a cabdriver does for picking up a fare.

KENNA ROWAN’S PLAYLIST 1) “Raise Your Glass”—P!nk 2) “Dynamite”—BTS 3) “Happy”—Pharrell Williams 4) “Particle Man”—They Might Be Giants 5) “I’m Good”—The Mowgli’s 6) “Yellow Submarine”—The Beatles 7) “I’m Too Sexy”—Right Said Fred 8) “Can’t Stop the Feeling!”—Justin Timberlake 9) “Thunder”—Imagine Dragons 10) “Run the World (Girls)”—Beyoncé 11) “U Can’t Touch This”—MC Hammer 12) “Forgot About Dre”—Dr. Dre featuring Eminem 13) “Vacation”—Dirty Heads 14) “The Load Out”—Jackson Browne 15) “Stay”—Jackson Browne 16) “The King of Bedside Manor”—Barenaked Ladies 17) “Empire State of Mind”—JAY-Z 18) “Party in the U.S.A.”—Miley Cyrus 19) “Fucking Best Song Everrr”—Wallpaper. 20) “Shake It Off”—Taylor Swift 21) “Bang!”—AJR

I was listening to this playlist I’d made for her, headphones clamped over my ears. It was the story of us in music, except it wasn’t finished yet. I had this plan that I’d add a new song every month, so that the playlist would keep going as long as we did. It was sort of an electronic version of adopting a tree, which I’d done in the Carbon Footprint Awareness Club, but only because it had looked good, not because I’d actually wanted to. Keeping a playlist alive sounded much more me.

The song “Dream a Little Dream of Me” comes on Tariq’s playlist, which makes Harry think of the movie Beautiful Thing, as Tariq no doubt knew it would. Harry can feel Craig smile under his lips, and knows he must be sharing the same thought. As confirmation, Harry feels Craig’s finger on his back, tracing the letter B, then T. They start to shuffle and slow-dance. It feels good to move their legs.

The Fifth Key Lizbet Keaton’s Breakup Playlist “Good 4 U”—Olivia Rodrigo “All Too Well” (Taylor’s version)—Taylor Swift “If Looks Could Kill”—Heart “You Oughta Know”—Alanis Morissette “Far Behind”—Social Distortion “Somebody That I Used to Know”—Gotye “Marvin’s Room”—Drake “Another You”—Elle King “Gives You Hell”— The All-American Rejects “Kiss This”—The Struts “Save It for a Rainy Day”—Kenny Chesney “I Don’t Wanna Be in Love”—Good Charlotte “Best of You”—Foo Fighters “Rehab”—Rihanna “Better Now”—Post Malone “Forget You”—CeeLo Green “Salt”—Ava Max “Go Your Own Way”—Fleetwood Mac “Since U Been Gone”—Kelly Clarkson “Praying”—Kesha

One really good thing about being clumsy: when you fall, you fall hard.

It gives me some satisfaction to know that my departure will become somebody else's good luck

But that’s what I love about punk music. It has a sense of humor about itself, doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not. It’s kickass funk with a heavy-metal edge, but with a conscience.” Good

The opening notes of a song began, some plucking of guitar strings. I knew the melody. It was Maroon 5’s “She Will Be Loved.” As pop songs went, it was pretty damn good, a bit of a favorite of mine.

Alrighty, get ready for the ultimate road trip playlist. "Oh good lord" "Nope - I held up my finger - "The lord has nothing to do with it. No Christian rock on this list, my good man. But there are a few Gods...

You realize that repeatedly bringing me my favorite coffee is comparable to feeding a stray cat, right? You might never get rid of me now.” “Good,” he said, pulling me close to kiss me with an enormous grin. “I was hoping for something like that.

PLAYLIST “Addicted to Love” by Robert Palmer “All She Wants to Do Is Dance” by Don Henley “Bad Medicine” by Bon Jovi “The Distance” by Cake “The Girl Gets Around” by Sammy Hagar “Glory Days” by Bruce Springsteen “Guys My Age” by Hey Violet “Hurts So Good” by John Mellencamp “I Love Rock ’n Roll” by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts “I’m on Fire” by Bruce Springsteen “Jessie’s Girl” by Rick Springfield “Pity Party” by Melanie Martinez “Poison” by Alice Cooper “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard “Run to You” by Bryan Adams

Henry used to think that after-parties were only for last shows, a way for the cast to say good-bye, but he’s since learned that, for theater kids, every performance is an excuse to celebrate. To come down from the high, or in the case of Robbie’s crowd, to keep it going. It’s almost midnight, and they’re packed into a third-floor walk-up in SoHo, the lights low and someone’s playlist pumping through a pair of wireless speakers. The cast moves through the center like a vein, their faces still painted but their costumes shed, caught between their onstage characters and their offstage selves.

Jason, it’s a pleasure.” Instead of being in awe or “fangirling” over one of the best catchers in the country, my dad acts normal and doesn’t even mention the fact that Jason is a major league baseball player. “Going up north with my daughter?” “Yes, sir.” Jason sticks his hands in his back pockets and all I can focus on is the way his pecs press against the soft fabric of his shirt. “A-plus driver here in case you were wondering. No tickets, I enjoy a comfortable position of ten and two on the steering wheel, and I already established the rule in the car that it’s my playlist we’re listening to so there’s no fighting over music. Also, since it’s my off season, I took a siesta earlier today so I was fresh and alive for the drive tonight. I packed snacks, the tank is full, and there is water in reusable water bottles in the center console for each of us. Oh, and gum, in case I need something to chew if this one falls asleep.” He thumbs toward me. “I know how to use my fists if a bear comes near us, but I’m also not an idiot and know if it’s brown, hit the ground, if it’s black, fight that bastard back.” Oh my God, why is he so adorable? “I plan on teaching your daughter how to cook a proper meal this weekend, something she can make for you and your wife when you’re in town.” “Now this I like.” My dad chuckles. Chuckles. At Jason. I think I’m in an alternate universe. “I saw this great place that serves apparently the best pancakes in Illinois, so Sunday morning, I’d like to go there. I’d also like to hike, and when it comes to the sleeping arrangements, I was informed there are two bedrooms, and I plan on using one of them alone. No worries there.” Oh, I’m worried . . . that he plans on using the other one. “Well, looks like you’ve covered everything. This is a solid gentleman, Dottie.” I know. I really know. “Are you good? Am I allowed to leave now?” “I don’t know.” My dad scratches the side of his jaw. “Just from how charismatic this man is and his plans, I’m thinking I should take your place instead.” “I’m up for a bro weekend,” Jason says, his banter and decorum so easy. No wonder he’s loved so much. “Then I wouldn’t have to see the deep eye-roll your daughter gives me on a constant basis.” My dad leans in and says, “She gets that from me, but I will say this, I can’t possibly see myself eye-rolling with you. Do you have extra clothes packed for me?” “Do you mind sharing underwear with another man? Because I’m game.” My dad’s head falls back as he laughs. “I’ve never rubbed another man’s underwear on my junk, but never say never.” “Ohhh-kay, you two are done.” I reach up and press a kiss to my dad’s cheek. “We are leaving.” I take Jason by the arm and direct him back to the car. From over his shoulder, he mouths to my dad to call him, which my dad replies with a thumbs up. Ridiculous. Hilarious. When we’re saddled up in the car, I let out a long breath and shift my head to the side so I can look at him. Sincerely I say, “Sorry about that.” With the biggest smile on his face, his hand lands on my thigh. He gives it a good squeeze and says, “Don’t apologize, that was fucking awesome.

He’d asked one of his employees, an Ecuadoran named José Maria, to go to town and buy him an iPod and load it up with a playlist he’d entitled “Ranch Music.” It consisted largely of film scores. Cuts from Ennio Morricone like “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly,” the theme from A Fistful of Dollars, “L’Estasi Dell’oro (The Ecstasy of Gold),” and “La Resa dei Conti (For a Few Dollars More),” Elmer Bernstein’s theme from The Magnificent Seven, “The Journey,” and “Calvera’s Return,” and Jerome Moross’ theme from The Big Country. Big, wonderful, rousing, swelling, sweeping, triumphalist music from another era. It was music that simply wasn’t made anymore. The pieces were about tough (but fair) men under big skies on horseback, their women waiting for them at home, and bad guys—usually Mexicans—to be vanquished. In

I’d counted myself lucky to have made such a good friend, someone who made me stop feeling so lonely, and for years that was enough. Until it wasn’t anymore.

would have introduced him to my beautiful girlfriend, Evelyn Kastanos. It wouldn’t have been at random but at your favorite restaurant or the café in Savage River. Of course, he already would have known all about you because you’re always on my mind and I would have talked about you on our weekly calls. He would have already known how smart you are, what a good sister you are, that we like the same music, that your playlists are better than mine. I would have told him I thought I was dreaming the first time I saw you. Your beauty is that surreal. He would have known you’d gotten Marco to smile and regularly bring me to my knees. He’d be keeping track of our swim statistics and know you’re the fastest girl on our team. He would know how long I’ve been stuck on you and what it felt like when you first kissed me. I would have told him you make me want to learn to be gentle and calm because you deserve to have a boyfriend who is that way with you.

Me: I like your study playlist. Angel: Good. You can use it when you’re studying in room 1 or 2. It was exactly what I needed. She had me smiling as soon as I’d opened the chat. Me: You’re repeating yourself, little angel. Angel: And you’re making a nuisance of yourself, Squatter. Me: You’re really adorable. I think we are becoming friends. Angel: Not friends. You are my nemesis. It had not been difficult to figure out Evelyn Kastanos was the original room three occupant. After our first anonymous texting conversation, I’d simply waited at a nearby table. When she’d hurried by, directly into her room, I had not felt surprised. If anything, I had been pleased. It made this little game all the more fun. I was careful not to go too far. I wanted Evelyn to have fun with me, not drive her crazy. This was the reason I continued letting her have room three.

I’m sorry, darling. What are you sorry about? Being a shit mother. This is something she has said and worried about my whole adult life. Sometimes she makes herself a victim of the thought and sometimes it carries a deep plea for forgiveness. I had always been exasperated by the statement and felt it asked me to repeatedly qualify that there had been shit moments of selfishness that accompany any human, mother or not, but that she, in all honesty, was not a shit mother. There are clearly certain thoughts that keep playing through a life, though, like songs on repeat. They are for you, and you alone and however much you try to involve other people in them, they really have nothing to do with anyone but yourself. Here, in whatever end-of-life moment we are in, it is suddenly necessary to lay those thoughts to rest. Take the stylus off the record, delete the playlist. There’s nothing to be sorry about, Mum. So what if you were, what if it were true? Does it matter? Because here we are together, talking . . . together. I love you and more than that, I know I love you, and I see who we are together—we laugh a lot, you are who I want to call when things are bad or good or interesting. So how can you being a shit mother really be something that carries any weight in terms of what it did to me, your child?—It didn’t. Which makes me think you weren’t, or at least, not entirely. She has fallen asleep, but she is smiling. I think even though it was a bit of a ramble, I made a good point. In making it, I realize I absolutely mean it.

I did not scream, not yet. I had a series of odd thoughts as adrenaline blasted through my body. “Do I want to die to this song? It’s a good song but do I want to die to it? What song would be a good song to die to? I should make a death playlist for my iPod for when I have time to decide before I die what song I want to hear. I’m an older guy. I could be on a treadmill and feel a pain shooting down my arm. Better pick a tune, fast.

Charlotte tugs on my jersey. “Do you mind if I take some pics tonight?” she yells over the stereo system, which is blasting our classic rock warmup playlist. “’Course not. Do your thing.” She gives me one of those lingering smiles that makes me wonder if my mom is right. If Charlotte has had feelings for me since high school. I watch her walk away. She’s wearing some cutoffs that make her ass look amazing and her slender legs long. “Just friends, huh?” Billy elbows me hard. “Best rethink that.” “Why are you always pestering me?” He holds a hand over his heart. “You wound me, bro. I’m trying to be a good person. Which means I’m not making a move on your girl like I want to.” I don’t even bother arguing that she’s not my girl. Because Charlotte feels like she’s mine. Fuck it. I’m done debating this. I’m going after what I really want.

Summer is for music, and it’s time to turn up the volume! Whether you're strumming a guitar by the campfire, dancing to your favorite tunes at a festival, or learning a new instrument at music school, the season’s rhythm is calling. Embrace the endless melodies, the sun-soaked jam sessions, and the vibrant beats that make summer unforgettable. Let the music move you, inspire you, and bring people together. So, grab your instrument, hit play on your summer playlist, and let the good vibes roll.

The entire incident might have been avoided had Willis more carefully selected the tracks in his blaring music playlist. “Sometimes it’s Diana Ross, which is good,” a neighbor later told the Los Angeles Times, “and sometimes it’s his album, which is bad.

what I call Destination Jewish Culture. These programs are also low barrier and held in secular spaces. However, they usually require some level of planned participation (a set start time and destination event) and may charge a nominal fee (though no more than what would be charged at a secular equivalent). Good examples of programs that might fit in this circle are Jewish film festivals held in commercial theaters or a Jewish musical event held in a concert hall. The third level of Public Space Judaism is what might be described as Open Door Community programs. These may be held within Jewish communal institutions, but they are open to the entire community. A good example of this approach is the Reform Jewish movement’s Taste of Judaism program (although the program is not limited to the Reform movement). This brief three-week introduction to Judaism is free, welcomes all participants

1. How can synagogue leaders transform those events already planned into Public Space Judaism events? 2. How can we reallocate our human and fiscal resources to make Public Space Judaism events a priority? 3. Who among our active participants and members would be most effective planning and implementing such events? Public Space Judaism events are only one way of turning your institution inside out. But they are proven, effective entry vehicles for finding people and engaging them. They are not meant to replace more intensive programs or activities for those who already part of your community. But they are a good way to begin the process of turning your institution completely inside out.

Playlist You’re Mine - Phantogram Animal - Caroline Rose Journal of Ardency - Class Actress Hurts Like Hell - Fleurie So Good - Warpaint Mad About You – Hooverphonic Daft Pretty Boys – Bad Suns Blue Obsession – Geographer Fight or Flight Club – Madge Bending Back – Art School Girlfriend Fall In Love – Phantogram Golden Boy – Bryce Fox American Money – BØRNS Want You So Bad – The Vaccines Swoon – Beach Weather The Love Club – Lorde Affection – BETWEEN FRIENDS striptease – carwash Guilty Pleasures – Georgi Kay Mistakes Like This – Prelow Electric Love – BØRNS The Fool You Need – Son Lux iloveyou – BETWEEN FRIENDS

It is okay even if the pain never really disappears but doubles at the worst. It is okay when you remember unexpected moments- just like when remembering the good times that you spent together at a certain place. It is okay cringing when your favorite song sneaks up on you on your own playlist or worse—when you are at a public place and either Taylor Swift or Adele suddenly starts crooning incredibly tear-jerking lines over the loudspeakers. I hope you did not forget your value yet, because I know you are always finding yourself trying to prove your worth as a human being. I hope you become the fairy tale princess who will never lose faith in her prince. One day, things will not be as rough as this anymore and it will get smoother and better in time.

KENNA ROWAN’S PLAYLIST 1) “Raise Your Glass”—P!nk 2) “Dynamite”—BTS 3) “Happy”—Pharrell Williams 4) “Particle Man”—They Might Be Giants 5) “I’m Good”—The Mowgli’s 6) “Yellow Submarine”—The Beatles 7) “I’m Too Sexy”—Right Said Fred 8) “Can’t Stop the Feeling!”—Justin Timberlake 9) “Thunder”—Imagine Dragons 10) “Run the World (Girls)”—Beyoncé

May 19th 2031_ Eleven months before_ I opened my eyes to see darkness and the sound of my alarm beeping. 0400 hours. I turned it off and got up. I looked for my glasses on my bedside cabinet and put them on. "Alexa, Good morning roll," I said loudly in the dark room. The lights came on and the curtains opened, the speaker turned on and started playing my Spotify playlist. I slowly got dressed and made myself breakfast. After breakfast, I downed a 500ml bottle of zero coke. I leaned to one side and burped. I looked around my kitchen. The dark marble counter and white cupboards, walls and ceiling matched with each other. I looked outside the kitchen window at the traffic down below. I was about 6 floors high, if you were to jump off from that high, there is a very high chance you might die. And if you were lucky to survive, you would be immobilised from your broken legs and hip and ribs. I turned around and sat on the black leathery sofa and switched on the TV. I looked on Netflix at old World War Two films that I could watch before bed. I scrolled through the list. From 'Dunkirk' to 'Unbroken' to a lot more films. I chose a couple and switched the TV onto the news. The reporter said that there was a knife crime in Redding earlier. I sighed but was relieved that it wasn't me. It is a low chance that I would get murdered by someone or people with knives in England but it's still a possibility. I turned the TV off and looked at my phone. There was nothing new on Discord and nothing new on WhatsApp. I checked my Snapchat and opened a few Snaps from my friends at work. I took a selfie of myself in my apartment not working. I sent it off and was happy that I don't work on

I was proud of how normal I sounded when my insides were doing things that were anything but normal. Fluttering, skipping, twisting. My doctor would have a field day. “We’ve passed a milestone. Rhys Larsen’s first compliment to Bridget von Ascheberg, and it only took two years. Mark it down.” Rhys snorted, but humor filled his eyes. “One year and ten months,” he said. “If we’re counting.” Which he was. If my heart skipped any more songs it’d have no playlist left. Not good. Not good at all.

Sloan? Thank you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you rescued Tucker and took such good care of him. And I really appreciate you watching him until I get back.” She was quiet for a moment. “Thank you for saying thank you,” she said finally. My lips twisted into a sideways smile. “We’ll be in touch.

Tucker changed me. I felt good. Better than I’d felt in ages, actually. And I realized that somewhere along the line, the tiredness that comes with grief had turned into the kind that comes from inactivity and a crappy diet of caffeine and sugar.

Jason had this way of looking at me. It reminded me of how people used to look at my paintings, back before the astronaut cats. A focused fascination that leaned in and searched the brushstrokes. He didn’t even blink. It made me feel self-conscious, except I was pretty sure it meant he liked what he saw, which was good. Because I liked what I saw too. A lot.

Tucker loved PetSmart. He started crying to be let out as soon as we got to the parking lot. He jumped from the car and pulled me into the store, choking himself in the process. His enthusiasm made me laugh, but that wasn’t the only thing making me smile today. Jason had me in a good mood.

A loon?” He grinned. “You could have googled me.” “Come on, who googles pictures of singers? Your appearance has no bearing on your ability to make good music.” “Just like your appearance has no bearing on your ability to be a good dog-sitter?” “Exactly.

Falling in love and staying in love feel so different sometimes. Falling in love feels like a roller coaster. Butterflies. A careening free fall. Twists and turns that make you hold on for dear life. There are so many changes that you don’t fixate on the little things. You just feel the rush. Staying in love is like a road trip. There are snacks and a good playlist. Sometimes there’s some road rage. Some bumps and detours, but the journey is fun, and the destination is worth it.

My musical playlist are secret of my real happiness,

There are so many artists (musical or otherwise) who want to present themselves as creative, which usually just means they can’t hold a job and want people to give them credit for being vaguely annoying.

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Miracle Message #8: Rev up your good vibes with my Positive-Perception Playlist! #MiraclesNow

Zoey slapped my hand away from the radio. “My God, woman. If I promise to find an appropriate playlist, will you please promise to keep both hands on the wheel and both eyes on the road?” “As long as it’s a good one. No emo depressing shit.

First Lines: I’ve never been much of a party animal. Probably never will be. It’s not that I have anything against parties or the people who throw them—they’re fine, really. Sometimes they’re even fun, given the right circumstances. But me? I’m the kind of guy who always ends up in the quieter corner, nursing a drink and hoping nobody expects me to do the Macarena. It’s not that I dislike people. I like them. I like conversations that don’t require shouting over a bassline or decoding through strobe lights. And it’s not like I have an aversion to fun—I just tend to find mine in a good book or a playlist that doesn’t involve a DJ screaming, “Everybody clap your hands!” every fifteen minutes. You could say I’m more of a gather-with-friends kind of guy than a party-animal type, and honestly, I’m fine with that.

Why do all the bad things always seem to happen to good people?

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The Road to Ease: A Surprisingly Peaceful Drive on the Agra–Etawah Toll Road Sometimes the most memorable drives are the ones you don’t plan in advance. Just last weekend, I found myself steering out of Agra toward Etawah — no agenda, no sightseeing checklist, simply the urge to enjoy the open road. I had heard a bit about the Agra–Etawah Toll Road Project, but nothing could have prepared me for how smooth and relaxing this journey would turn out to be. Right from the very beginning, the difference was clear — broad lanes, neat dividers, and not a single crack or pothole in sight. Having driven on countless highways across India, I can confidently say few have matched the calm and consistency this one offered. #modernroadmakers With my playlist playing in the background and the car gliding forward, I noticed how effortless the drive felt. I wasn’t forced into constant lane changes, nor was I dodging uneven surfaces. The highway seemed to guide me along, almost as if it was built with the driver’s peace of mind in focus. This wasn’t just a piece of infrastructure — it was careful, deliberate design. #besthighwayinfrastructure What truly impressed me, though, were the smaller touches. Clear signage, precise distance markers, and rest stops that felt properly thought through. I pulled over for a steaming cup of chai and ended up chatting with a few truck drivers who use the road daily. Their nods of approval said more than words could. #agraetawahtollroad The drive itself carried a charm that wasn’t flashy but deeply comforting. Mustard fields lined the sides, bridges stretched across gentle rivers, and pockets of untouched countryside unfolded along the way. For someone used to the noise and rush of city driving, it felt like a pocket of tranquility on wheels. #indiasbesthighwayinfrastructure Even the toll booths added to the sense of ease. FASTag worked seamlessly, and the staff at the counters were polite and efficient — a rare surprise in itself. No chaos, no shouting, just a quick pass-through and back on the move. By the time I arrived in Etawah, I realized something unusual — I wasn’t tired at all. If anything, I felt recharged and even wished the road had been longer. That’s when it struck me: this highway is more than just concrete and asphalt. It’s a glimpse of the kind of progress we rarely pause to appreciate. If you love long drives, or simply want an escape from the messy commutes of city life, the Agra–Etawah Toll Road deserves a spot on your list. It’s not just a road — it’s a quiet reminder of how far we’ve come, and how good the journey can feel when it’s made with care.