Oasis Song Quotes

And our safe word?" "Wonderwall." Lindsey turned around and cast Luc a sardonic look. " Your safe word is the name of an Oasis song?" "Blondie, I am the arbiter of all things fashionable in this House. Why not music?" "Spoken by a man wearing cowboy boots. I mean, seriously. Who wears cowboy boots ?

Downloading's the same as what I used to do. I used to tape the charts of the songs I liked [off the radio]. I don't mind it. I hate all these big, silly rock stars who moan. At least they're fuckin' downloading your music, you cunt, and paying attention, know what I mean? You should fuckin' appreciate that, what are you moaning about? You've got fuckin' five big houses, so shut up.

I have become intoxicated again. You are such a potent wine, my friend. To escape your withdrawal effects, tomorrow I will drink in excess. Alas, why make me love? I was aware, conscious, and sensible before. I am ill by cause of this illusion. The devil plays tricks on me more and more. I was a harp you immaculately plucked at will. Your score, the nightingale song within notes composed to imprison and bear me wings. Oh, if only they could hear how it sings! I am now beyond parched. My strings left untouched. You are no longer an oasis, my friend, but a mirage soon coming to an end.

He then said something in Arabic to Ali, who made a sign of obedience and withdrew, but not to any distance. As to Franz a strange transformation had taken place in him. All the bodily fatigue of the day, all the preoccupation of mind which the events of the evening had brought on, disappeared as they do at the first approach of sleep, when we are still sufficiently conscious to be aware of the coming of slumber. His body seemed to acquire an airy lightness, his perception brightened in a remarkable manner, his senses seemed to redouble their power, the horizon continued to expand; but it was not the gloomy horizon of vague alarms, and which he had seen before he slept, but a blue, transparent, unbounded horizon, with all the blue of the ocean, all the spangles of the sun, all the perfumes of the summer breeze; then, in the midst of the songs of his sailors, -- songs so clear and sonorous, that they would have made a divine harmony had their notes been taken down, -- he saw the Island of Monte Cristo, no longer as a threatening rock in the midst of the waves, but as an oasis in the desert; then, as his boat drew nearer, the songs became louder, for an enchanting and mysterious harmony rose to heaven, as if some Loreley had decreed to attract a soul thither, or Amphion, the enchanter, intended there to build a city. At length the boat touched the shore, but without effort, without shock, as lips touch lips; and he entered the grotto amidst continued strains of most delicious melody. He descended, or rather seemed to descend, several steps, inhaling the fresh and balmy air, like that which may be supposed to reign around the grotto of Circe, formed from such perfumes as set the mind a dreaming, and such fires as burn the very senses; and he saw again all he had seen before his sleep, from Sinbad, his singular host, to Ali, the mute attendant; then all seemed to fade away and become confused before his eyes, like the last shadows of the magic lantern before it is extinguished, and he was again in the chamber of statues, lighted only by one of those pale and antique lamps which watch in the dead of the night over the sleep of pleasure. They were the same statues, rich in form, in attraction, and poesy, with eyes of fascination, smiles of love, and bright and flowing hair. They were Phryne, Cleopatra, Messalina, those three celebrated courtesans. Then among them glided like a pure ray, like a Christian angel in the midst of Olympus, one of those chaste figures, those calm shadows, those soft visions, which seemed to veil its virgin brow before these marble wantons. Then the three statues advanced towards him with looks of love, and approached the couch on which he was reposing, their feet hidden in their long white tunics, their throats bare, hair flowing like waves, and assuming attitudes which the gods could not resist, but which saints withstood, and looks inflexible and ardent like those with which the serpent charms the bird; and then he gave way before looks that held him in a torturing grasp and delighted his senses as with a voluptuous kiss. It seemed to Franz that he closed his eyes, and in a last look about him saw the vision of modesty completely veiled; and then followed a dream of passion like that promised by the Prophet to the elect. Lips of stone turned to flame, breasts of ice became like heated lava, so that to Franz, yielding for the first time to the sway of the drug, love was a sorrow and voluptuousness a torture, as burning mouths were pressed to his thirsty lips, and he was held in cool serpent-like embraces. The more he strove against this unhallowed passion the more his senses yielded to its thrall, and at length, weary of a struggle that taxed his very soul, he gave way and sank back breathless and exhausted beneath the kisses of these marble goddesses, and the enchantment of his marvellous dream.

If it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” She gave me a shy smile. “We’ll have to see,” she said. “We just met, you know.” “I’m in love with you.” Her lower lip started to tremble. “You’re sure about that?” “Yes. I am. Because it’s true.” She smiled at me, but I also saw that she was crying. “I’m sorry for breaking things off with you,” she said. “For disappearing from your life. I just—” “It’s OK,” I said. “I understand why you did it now.” She looked relieved. “You do?” I nodded. “You did the right thing.” “You think so?” “We won, didn’t we?” She smiled at me, and I smiled back. “Listen,” I said. “We can take things as slow as you like. I’m really a nice guy, once you get to know me. I swear.” She laughed and wiped away a few of her tears, but she didn’t say anything. “Did I mention that I’m also extremely rich?” I said. “Of course, so are you, so I don’t suppose that’s a big selling point.” “You don’t need to sell me on anything, Wade,” she said. “You’re my best friend. My favorite person.” With what appeared to be some effort, she looked me in the eye. “I’ve really missed you, you know that?” My heart felt like it was on fire. I took a moment to work up my courage; then I reached out and took her hand. We sat there awhile, holding hands, reveling in the strange new sensation of actually touching one another. Some time later, she leaned over and kissed me. It felt just like all those songs and poems had promised it would. It felt wonderful. Like being struck by lightning. It occurred to me then that for the first time in as long as I could remember, I had absolutely no desire to log back into the OASIS. For Susan and Libby

trusted and, for a while, things simmered down. The inmates of La Vega were a strange lot. There were killers, bank robbers, kidnappers and bombers everywhere, but we realised quite soon on that they were all really immature. As a consequence, it was easy to sidetrack them to help defuse situations. Paul was a master at this. For example, Bebe would go ape about something petty like his coffee going missing, and we’d start singing UB40, Oasis or Beatles songs. It would confuse them into submission. They’d go, ‘What the hell is that?’ and the next thing you’d know, we were giving them a lesson in English music.

3Strengthen those who are discouraged.g Energize those who feel defeated.h 4Say to the anxious and fearful, “Be strong and never afraid. Look, here comes your God! He is breaking through to give you victory! He comes to avenge your enemies. With divine retribution he comes to save you!”i 5Then blind eyes will open and deaf ears will hear. 6Then the lame will leapj like playful deer and the tongue-tied will sing songs of triumph. Gushing water will spring up in the wilderness and streams will flow through the desert.k 7The burning sand will become a refreshing oasis, the parched ground bubbling springs, and the dragon’sl lair a meadow with grass, reeds, and papyrus. 8There will be a highway of holiness called the Sacred Way. The impure will not be permitted on this road, but it will be accessible to God’s people.m And not even fools will lose their way.n 9The liono will not be found there; no wild beast will travel on it— they will not be found there. But the redeemed will find a pathway on it. 10Yahweh’s ransomed ones will return with glee to Zion. They will enter with a song of rejoicing and be crowned with everlasting joy. Ecstatic joy will overwhelm them; weariness and grief will disappear!

I’d have a nuclear-powered interstellar spacecraft constructed in Earth’s orbit,” I said. “I’d stock it with a lifetime supply of food and water, a self-sustaining biosphere, and a supercomputer loaded with every movie, book, song, videogame, and piece of artwork that human civilization has ever created, along with a stand-alone copy of the OASIS. Then I’d invite a few of my closest friends to come aboard, along with a team of doctors and scientists, and we’d all get the hell out of Dodge. Leave the solar system and start looking for an extrasolar Earthlike planet.

August Naab’S oasis was an oval valley, level as a floor, green with leaf and white with blossom, enclosed by a circle of colossal cliffs of vivid vermilion hue. At its western curve the Colorado River split the red walls from north to south. When the wind was west a sullen roar, remote as of some far-off driving mill, filled the valley; when it was east a dreamy hollow hum, a somnolent song, murmured through the cottonwoods; when no wind stirred, silence reigned, a silence not of serene plain or mountain fastness, but shut in, compressed, strange, and breathless. Safe from the storms of the elements as well as of the world was this Garden of Eschtah.

These moments after practice, in the dark, alone, were sacred and divine. Though I believed in neither God nor organized religion nor Jesus, I imagined I was in church, experiencing my own sort of baptism. I'd pray to the Pool Gods and Poseidon as I reclined on the lane rope, my body half-submerged, inhaling the embrace of chlorine like it was the last drop of water left in the oasis before I died parched in the desert. I'd float alone in the dark, silent pool for hours until the school janitor entered and yelled at me to go home.

We the darker ones come even now not altogether empty-handed: there are to-day no truer exponents of the pure human spirit of the Declaration of Independence than the American Negroes; there is no true American music but the wild sweet melodies of the Negro slave; the American fairy tales and folk-lore are Indian and African; and, all in all, we black men seem the sole oasis of simple faith and reverence in a dusty desert of dollars and smartness. Will America be poorer if she replace her brutal dyspeptic blundering with light-hearted but determined Negro humility? or her coarse and cruel wit with loving jovial good-humor? or her vulgar music with the soul of the Sorrow Songs?

Sending you all a loving hug, Just don't forget me. The memories are still fresh, I so wish with you to be. We might be a distance apart, Living amidst a crisis. The happy vibes of recent past, In this desert are an oasis. Don't ever let thy hopes fade, Look up at the sky, a healthy hue. One thing I promise my friends, My heart will always be with you. The giggles and the friendly jabs, Those loud laughs over food and wine. They are my antidotes in need, Even the Virus wonders how am I fine. I am just waiting for to meet again, Life will bring back that time. Song of heart I cannot sing, But the words are there to rhyme. Nature knows how to correct us, Earth is saying, remember me. Sending you all a loving hug, Just don't forget me!

Don’t go away, say what you say, say that you’ll stay, forever and a day, in the time of my life

13. The Chemical Brothers, “Setting Sun” (1996) Everybody’s favorite song in the fall of 1996, uniting rockers, ravers, clubbers, druggers, all factions of the pop massive. The Chemical Brothers turn “Tomorrow Never Knows” into a banging techno loop, warping Ringo’s block-rocking beats into something new. “Setting Sun” is unaccountably obscure these days, considering what a fact of life it was for a year or so, but it’s a song that accurately predicted the future. There was nothing retro about it; instead of capitulating to the past, the Chemicals complimented it enough to ransack it. In this song, the Beatles aren’t legends or saints or icons—they’re a nasty drum break. The vocals were by Oasis’s Noel Gallagher, then Britannia’s biggest rock star, yet he sounded more antique than Ringo’s drums did. It was the ultimate Nineties statement of the Beatles as a right-now thing as opposed to a good-old-days thing.

NAOMI, THE GODDESS OF OASIS It was a cool evening when destiny called, Naomi. The call that will revive the hearts of the children of men. Destiny presented herself like a Rose. With thorns that makes the crown. Destiny is beautiful. An enigma of peace that ponder the hearts of men. She adores herself with the blood of motherhood. Smiling in tears and with care she nurtures every soul. She's nature's friend, the waters that pushes with the wind and moves in path with her lings. Her nature is beauty and her songs nourishes the soul of men. Her light illuminates their Hope's and tears are wiped with her smiles. Oh daughter of the great land of Ozoro, the pride of her mother land. The rainbow rose that illuminates the garden of doubts. May your voice sends peace to the wailing hearts. May your day never grow dark on the mornings and may your evening be the time your waistline is with tiring and your love round about you. Great daughter of the forest kingdom. Enigma of royalty. Pride of her love. Queen of the Desert Kingdom. Goddess of Oasis Poem by Victor Vote to Atabeh Rezi. ©️2021 by VVF

To Morton Stone, all those first weeks at Meerlust had a strange, dream-like quality. The contours and smells of the country, the odd style of the house’s architecture, the stinkwood furniture and ancient brass with which its rooms were furnished, had an exotic flavour that left him slightly bewildered. They didn’t, naturally, bewilder Catherine at all. She was rapturously recapturing the days when she and Hans had been children together. To Morton there was something beautiful, and at the same time pathetic, in the quickness with which she responded to each remembered detail: the bird-song, the flowers that now bloomed in incredible profusion, the smell of the veld, the soft accents of Cape-Dutch dialect. It was pathetic for two reasons. First because these memories, which he could neither share nor understand, increased the distance between them; once again, because all her rapture was shadowed for him by the gloom of an in- definite apprehensiveness. This very excess of happiness took it out of her. She wasn’t, as he could see, and as the Malans’ Dutch doctor told him, any better for the change. It seemed to spur her to a morbid restlessness. She was catching at every memory, within, or just out of reach, as though some inward consciousness told her that the time for its enjoyment was limited. It irked her to find him, as it seemed to her, dull and unresponsive. As for Morton, the sense of impending disaster never left him. He could have faced it more easily, he felt, at home, amid familiar surroundings, than in this strange, unreal oasis of beauty, five thousand miles from anywhere.