Playlist Song Quotes

I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. Not 24-7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a blow job or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have a feeling that they can’t hide.

You know the reason The Beatles made it so big?...'I Wanna Hold Your Hand.' First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That's what everyone wants. Not 24/7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche...or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can't hide. Every single successful song of the past fifty years can be traced back to 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand.' And every single successful love story has those unbearable and unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding.

I always think of each night as a song. Or each moment as a song. But now I'm seeing we don't live in a single song. We move from song to song, from lyric to lyric, from chord to chord. There is no ending here. It's an infinite playlist.

Because the song is us and the song is her and this time I’m going to use her name. Norah, Norah, Norah - no rhymes really. Just truth. I shouldn’t want the song to end. I always think of each night as a song. Or each moment as a song. But now I’m seeing we don’t live in a single song. We move from song to song, from lyric to lyric, from chord to chord. There is no ending here. It’s an infinite playlist.

Forget a skipped beat. My heart skipped a whole song. If my heart skipped any more songs, it'd have no playlist left.

Ryan Chase was my eighth-grade collage, aspirational and wide-eyed. But Max was the first bite of grilled cheese on a snowy day, the easy fit of my favorite jeans, that one old song that made it onto every playlist. Peanut-butter Girl Scout cookies instead of an ornate cake. Not glamorous or idealized or complicated. Just me.

You need songs that make you feel. Some make you string, some make you weak. Some build determination, some tear you apart. But you need all of those...Run through the pain.

You might also see that some of my playlists are simply two songs on repeat fifteen times, like I’m a psycho getting pumped up to murder the president.

Hannah had a playlist consisting of 308 love songs and not one of them could describe this moment accurately. Not even close.

I shouldn’t want the song to end. I always think of each night as a song. Or each moment as a song. But now I’m seeing we don’t live in a single song. We move from song to song, from lyric to lyric, from chord to chord. There is no ending here. It’s an infinite playlist.

Some books are songs like that, the ones you go back to, make playlists of, put on repeat.

Deep breaths. I am taking deep breaths. Composure. Which, for me, means composing... Maybe this is my way of creating the illusion of control over something I have no control over. Like, if it's just a story I'm telling or a song I'm singing, then I'll be okay because I'm the guy who's providing the words.

alone, drinking coffee, listening to the playlist that include the songs that remember you with the best and bad moments of your life. what a hard emotional moment !!

My playlists are cluttered with sad songs and fractured memories, yet I unconvincingly claim I am trying to move on.

Jede Nacht ist für mich ein Song. Jeder Augenblick ist für mich ein Song. Aber diesmal ist alles anders. Und gleichzeitig spüre ich, dass das Leben von uns nicht nur in einem einzigen Song gelebt wird. Wir leben von Lied zu Lied, von Augenblick zu Augenblick, von Akkord zu Akkord. Das Leben ist mehr als der Soundtrack einer Nacht. Es ist ein unendlicher Soundtrack.

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 need to make a playlist of acoustic covers from tonight and carry it in my pocket. Songs that will remind me of winding up in a coffee shop in lace sleeves and red lipstick

Life fails. Songs don't always.

It pained me to think something so inane, but that morning, as she’d subjected me to an endless T-Swift playlist, I realized that Liz was a fucking Taylor Swift song. She was. Vibey and romantic, but with the uncanny ability to reach inside of you and grab your heart with her absolute specificity. Liz Buxbaum wasn’t just a redhead; no, she was a girl whose hair was the color of the late September maple leaves that fluttered on the home base tree in her front yard. And Liz Buxbaum didn’t just wear a sweater, for God’s sake. No, she wore an apple green cardigan that smelled like Chanel No.5 and the front seat of your car, where she’d left it for a week. She said it reminded her of the way the rain sounded on the roof the first time you kissed her.

My eye is still used to searching for her in a crowd. My breath is still used to catching when I see her and the light is angled just right. My body is still used to hers moving next to mine. So the distance—anything short of contact—is a constant rejection. We were together for six months, and in each of those months my desire found new ways to be fueled by her. It’s over can’t kill that. All of the songs I wrote in my head were for her, and now I can’t stop them from playing. This null soundtrack. I’m tired, she’d said, and I told her that I was tired, too, and that I wanted to take some time for us, too. And then she’d said, No, I’m tired of you, and I slipped into the surreal-but-true universe where we were over and I wasn’t over it. She was no longer any kind of here that I could get to

I always think of each night as a song. Or each moment as a song. But now I'm seeing we don't live in a single song. We move from song to song, from lyric to lyric, from chord to chord. There is no ending here. It's an infinite playlist.

I carefully scrolled through his playlists and almost had a heart attack when my eyes landed on the one named Songs for Shannon.

The most uplifting music in the world is that of Mother Natures orchestra. Sit atop a hill or mountain, with a fabulous view and listen..... Hear the winds song, the birds chorus, and the far off sound of childrens laughter and song and the sounds of life that you can soundtrack to your own playlists.

The first time I fell in love with Zoe, she was scream singing a Taylor Swift song in my parents' living room while my sister Luna laughed at her. At least, I think that's the first time. It's happened so many times now.

I think of my naming strategy as a hobby, even though my psychiatrist doesn’t see it that way. I don’t simply listen to music, I study the lyrics, and when I’m done making a playlist, I pick three words from one of the songs—three words that perfectly encapsulate the collection—and that becomes its title.

Theres a song in your playlist always skipped but never delete.

Sometimes you happen across a brilliant run of radio songs, where each time one station goes to commercial, you scan to another that has just started to play a song you love but had almost forgotten about, a song you never would’ve picked but that turns out to be perfect for shouting along to. And so I drove along to one of those miraculous playlists, headed nowhere.

During certain periods of our lives, we may listen to a particular song that touches our hearts so much that we end up repeating the song for the umpteenth time. My question is, how would you know the next song will also touch your heart if you don't allow the playlist to flow? This happens to us in real life; sometimes we get too comfortable with one thing such that we don't allow for other experiences and opportunities.

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

Can so much really happen in a night? The song was never really over, but now I have the ending—I don’t know how I’ll phrase it, but it will involve our returning, it will take in the strange pink light and the Sunday-morning quiet. Because this is us, and the song is her, and this time I’m going to use her name. Norah Norah Norah—no rhymes, really. Just truth.

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.

Songs are that way. Like a vehicle for your soul, taking you off the grid of reality for however long they last.

It pained me to think something so inane, but that morning, as she'd subjected me to an endless T-Swift playlist, I realized that Liz was a fucking Taylor Swift song.

Not every song in your playlist has the story associated, Sometimes you just like the song.

Stop listening to the blues, and add some more songs to life's playlist.

And—most memorably—when they were putting together the playlist of “songs that were at least forty years old by artists and bands from American states beginning with M.

There are certain things a girl just knows, like that a fourth minute on a punk song is a bad, bad idea,

Sometimes, when you know what’s coming on your playlist, you anticipate. You see how one song leads into the next. But when it’s new you can’t see what’s in front of you at all. That moment when the next song plays, all you have is what you hear. Moments to make up your mind. Sit it out, or dance. I like this beat. And I’m ready to move. And this one has a beat that you can dance to.

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.

Hannah stepped into the house and immediately had to check her urge to find the person in charge of the playlist. If she let herself, she’d sit in the corner all night searching for the perfect next song

The first time I fell in love with Zoe, she was scream singing a Taylor Swift song in my parents’ living room while my sister Luna laughed at her. At least, I think that’s the first time.  It’s happened so many times now.

‎you scan to another that has just started to play a song you love but had almost forgotten ‎about, a song you never would’ve picked but that turns out to be perfect for shouting along ‎to. And so I drove along to one of those miraculous playlists, headed nowhere

I shouldn’t want the song to end. I always think of each night as a song. Or each moment as a song. But now I’m seeing we don’t live in a single song. We move from song to song, from lyric to lyric, from chord to chord. There is no ending here. It’s an infinite playlist.

Silence descended on us. I turned the music on, my favorite playlist. The pounding bass of “Candy Shop” by 50 Cent filled the car. I drummed my fingers in rhythm to the sound. Gemma frowned. “This song doesn’t make sense. Why does a rapper sing about lollipops and rodeos?

Don't you dare deny me my breakdown. I will cry until nothing is left of my mascara but black shadows dancing on my cheeks. Don't you dare tell me to get over it, to keep it together, or ask me to push through, to brush it off. This is my messy space. Free of advice. I am not ready to hear. I will cry, I will scream, I will hate and hold a grudge. I will lose myself in every song on our playlist. This is my breakdown. And I am enjoying tearing down what we used to be to build me back up without you.

What if..." is my philosophy. I won't say it's plays like a broken record, no, it plays like a I hit the continuous repeat button on a one song playlist. When I see people who are pained and stressed by the world their trapped in, I ask, "What if?" and create their story about why they're constantly rolling their eyes behind their spouses back, then paste a smile when needed. We weren't born to live a life of misery, don't ever believe it. That's just not how it is, it's never to late too find your voice. Dig deep, grasp it and roar.

I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. Not 24-7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a blow job or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can’t hide. Every single successful love song of the past fifty years can be traced back to ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ And every single successful love story has those unbearable and unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding. Trust me. I’ve thought a lot about this.

Analogous to looping your favorite songs in a repeating playlist at night, we cherry-pick specific slices of your autobiographical past, and preferentially strengthen them by using the individualized sound cues during sleep.VIII I’m sure you can imagine innumerable uses for such a method. That said, you may also feel ethically uncomfortable about the prospect, considering that you would have the power to write and rewrite your own remembered life narrative or, more concerning, that of someone else. This moral dilemma is somewhat far in the future, but should such methods continue to be refined, it is one we may face.

In 2000 the Israeli singer Shlomi Shavan conquered the local playlists with his hit song ‘Arik’. It’s about a guy who is obsessed with his girlfriend’s ex, Arik. He demands to know who is better in bed – he, or Arik? The girlfriend dodges the question, saying that it was different with each of them. The guy is not satisfied and demands: ‘Talk numbers, lady.’ Well, precisely for such guys, a company called Bedpost sells biometric armbands that you can wear while having sex. The armband collects data such as heart rate, sweat level, duration of sexual intercourse, duration of orgasm and the number of calories you burned. The data is fed into a computer that analyses the information and ranks your performance with precise numbers. No more fake orgasms and ‘How was it for you?

Another song from her playlist came over the stereo, You Could be Happy by Snow Patrol and another, Embrace by Goldroom.

Christmas is a special time of year. The beauty and magic spread throughout every aspect of our lives, from the sights, smells, and sounds to things we touch and taste. I hope to capture this immersive experience in my novel. Which means I’ve included all sorts of extra goodies for you! For the full reading experience, be sure to explore the book page on my website. I’ve added a playlist with a corresponding song for each chapter. You can also download your very own copy of the Christmas Calendar to follow along with Cassie! For a visual treat, follow me on Pinterest where you’ll find photos showcasing everything from

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.

On November 22nd, 2018, my mother Vernita Lee passed away. I was conflicted about our relationship up until the very end. The truth is, it wasn't until I became successful that my mother started to show more interest in me. I wrestled with the question of how to take care of her - what did I owe the woman who gave me life, The bible says 'honor thy father and mother', but what did that actually mean? I decided one of the ways I could honor her would be to help care for her financially ... but there was never any real connection. I would say that the audience who watched me on television knew me better than my mother did. When her health began to decline a few years ago, I knew I needed to prepare myself for her transition. Just a few days before Thanksgiving my sister Patricia called to tell me she thought it was time. I flew to Milwaukee ... I tried to think of something to say, at one point I even picked up the manual left by the hospice care people. I read their advice thinking the whole time, how sad it was that I, Oprah Winfrey, who had spoken to thousands of people one on one should have to read a hospice manual to figure out what to say to my mother. When it was finally time to leave, something told me it would be the last time I'd ever see her but as I turned to go, the words I needed to say still wouldn't come. All I could muster was 'bye, I'll be seeing you' and I left for, ironically, a speaking engagement. On the flight home the next morning a little voice in my head whispered what I knew in my heart to be true: "you are going to regret this, you haven't finished the work". ... I turned around and went back to Milwaukee. I spent another day in that hot room and still no words came. That night I prayed for help. In the morning I meditated, and as I prepared to leave the bedroom I picked up my phone and noticed the song that was playing - Mahalia Jackson's 'Precious Lord'. If ever there was a sign, this was it. I had no idea how Mahalia Jackson appeared on my playlist. As I listened to the words, Precious Lord, take my hand Lead me on, let me stand. I am tired, I'm weak, I am worn Lead me on to the light, Take my hand, precious Lord And lead me home. I suddenly knew what to do. When I walked into my mothers room I asked if she wanted to hear the song. She nodded, and then I had another idea. I called my friend Wintley Phipps, a preacher and gospel artist, and asked him to sing Precious Lord to my dying mother. Over FaceTime from his kitchen table he sang the song a cappella and then prayed that our family would have no fear, just peace. I could see that my mother was moved. The song and the prayer had created a sort of opening for both of us. I began to talk to her about her life, her dreams, and me. Finally the words were there. I said, "It must have been hard for you, not having an education, not having a skill, not knowing what the future held. When you became pregnant, I'm sure a lot of people told you to get rid of that baby." She nodded. "But you didn't", I said. "And I want to thank you for keeping this baby". I paused, "I know that many times you didn't know what to do. You did the best you knew how to do and that's okay with me. That is okay with me. So you can leave now, knowing that it is well. It is well with my soul. It's been well for a long time." It was a sacred, beautiful moment, one of the proudest of my life. As an adult I'd learned to see my mother through a different lens; not as the mother who didn't care for me, protect me, love me or understand anything about me, but as a young girl still just a child herself; scared, alone, and unequipped to be a loving parent. I had forgiven my mother years earlier for not being the mother I needed, but she didn't know that. And in our last moments together I believe I was able to release her from the shame and the guilt of our past. I came back and I finished the work that needed to be done.

I selected my “Gray Day” playlist, which was made up of every single melancholy songs that ever existed, and hit play.

I’m not sure why she requested to have his songs included in my playlist. Then, I remember. She’s related to Mom. They’re both sadistic this way.

I’ve made a playlist of every song I’ve loved since I was 15. These songs remind me that I exist and remain the same person through space and time.

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.

She is the song that stays permanently in my playlist.

He plugged in his phone and chose a song from his favorite playlist. ​​<< Rock Star . . . Post Malone

Meanwhile, I still worked with Dr. Ferrante. He came up with different ways to try to help me with my approach to football. Back then, we listened to Walkmans and cassette tapes before games. This was almost ten years before Apple invented the iPod. Dr. Ferrante asked me to put together a playlist of the top twenty pregame songs that got me in the right football mood. Then he asked me to record my dad, my mom, my sister, and my brother as they each gave me a positive thought to take out onto the field. I took all the recordings to a local radio disc jockey, who was nice enough to mix them together on a cassette tape for me.

I begin to sing the songs on my favourite playlist, a pumped-up compilation of rock that Banger had put together for me. I can only call to mind nineteen songs, but I start to sing them in chronological order, starting with Ram Jam’s ‘Black Betty’.

A few older couples are shuffling back and forth to an uninspired playlist of soft 1990s end-credit songs.

He’d picked her up, let her choose the playlist with no complaints—not even when she played five Taylor Swift songs back to back—

6. “Sojourner” by Rapsody (2018) Stop whatever you’re doing and go add Rapsody to your playlist RIGHT NOW. Her latest album, Eve, is a masterpiece from beginning to end. This song is just one of many that displays her brilliance. If Bri were real, she would strive to be as dope as Rapsody.

5. Thou must set the scene with tunes. Road trips aren't the only time a decent playlist is required. How we consume music has changed radically over the years. Dinner at my grandparents' house was set to silence, at my parents' the radio, and at my friends' something much more personal: a playlist put together for the occasion with songs that are meaningful to us. Supper is on hold until the right music starts to play, even if it means holding a knife and fork and slavering over the smell of dinner until the person in charge of the tunes has done their job.

Playlist Theme Song: Chris Isaak- Wicked Game (Jessie Villa Cover) Ed Sheeran- Bad Habits Billie Eilish- NDA Billie Eilish- idontwannabeyouanymore Sasha Sloan- Runaway The Neighbourhood- Sweater Weather Croosh (feat. IV)- Lost Seether- Words as Weapons Hemming- Hard on Myself OneRepublic (feat. Timbaland)- Apologize Righteous Vendetta- A Way Out Transviolet- Under Lana Del Rey- Born to Die nothing,nowhere- rejecter Emawk (feat. solace)- Pilot MAALA- Better Life Frank Ocean- Lost Glass Animals- Heat Waves  Johnny Rain- Harveston Lake Seether (feat. Amy Lee)- Broken KALLITECHNIS- Synergy

If my heart skipped any more songs, it’d have no playlist left.

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.

At first, no contact seems impossible, like quitting an addiction cold turkey. There’s no slowly weaning yourself off of them. One day you have them, and the next day it’s like they don’t exist. As time goes on, you start to remember your life before them. You stop reaching for your phone when you see something that reminds you of them. You take the songs that they showed you off of your playlist. Eventually, you start to forget them completely. One month without contact, and I was becoming a different person. Winter had slowly turned into spring, and the extra freckles I got from the sun were starting to come out again. I had stories Ethan had never heard and memories he wasn’t present for. One month without contact. and I was finally starting to feel okay again.

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...

My iTunes playlist of sad-girl songs played in the background. Sometimes it helped with inspiration. Other times, it helped to remember why I refused to give love a second chance. Who needed that headache and heartache? I’d rather be eaten by a shark. Slowly.

I’d do two things. One—I would create a playlist on Spotify of all the songs that I think you would love based on my knowledge of your music taste. Two—I would buy you a journal and ask you to write down what each song made you feel.” Ashley cringed. “I know it sounds a little weird, but I used to do something similar and what I wrote in my journal became some of the best parts of my articles.

I get on the team plane and take a window seat, immediately putting on my noise-canceling headphones and disappearing into my own world. The only thing on my playlist is death metal because if I listen to any poppy love song, I might start crying.

I need to get back into work mode. I select the playlist by The Weeknd. It’s my warm up music. It gets the blood pumping in my lower regions. I don’t know how he manages to keep coming out with songs that make me and half the women around the world want to get naked at just the sound of his voice, but kudos to him for doing it. Men should be sending the singer thank-you cards for all the ass they get.

Forget a skipped beat. My heart skipped a whole song. If my heart any more songs, it'd have no playlist left

I put my playlist on shuffle mode and it’s giving my emotions whiplash. Songs bounce from Bad Omens, Eminem, Dolly Parton, Korn, to Sam Tinnesz.  One of the nice things about letting my clients choose the music during their sessions is I’ve been introduced to a lot of artists I might not have heard of otherwise. I’ve got one hell of an eclectic compilation rocking through my studio because of it.

I shouldn't want the song to end. I always think of each night as a song. Or each moment as a song. But now I`m seeing we don't live in a single song. We move from song to song, from lyric to lyric, from chord to chord. There is no ending here. It´s an INFINITE PLAYLIST

It’s important to know that playing a song only counts as a stream. If people listen for more than 30 seconds, that stream is tallied for (yes, you get paid for it). If they listen to your song for less than 30 seconds it doesn’t count as a stream and you don’t get paid. You need to grab their attention early so they don’t skip, then hold their attention at least past the first 30 seconds (and hopefully for the rest of the song).

Let’s say that curator A responds with “I’m looking for an acoustic cover of the new Bruno Mars song, I love the song but my playlist is strictly acoustic covers”. Lance could then go and record this,

I’d stopped living life long back Every day I just tried to get to the next day, Just living in the thoughts of tomorrow and waiting Waiting... for what and for whom I didn’t know Some people are like songs in your playlist Songs... that you deliberately skip, but do not delete

I had no doubt Harleigh Rose had organized the playlist purposely because “Coming Home” was playing. “My son’s home.” Dramatic, maybe. The entrance, the song, the announcement. But Dad, H.R., and I were theatrical.

Song Pop Cheatss And Hacks For Coins Power Ups And Playlists [62445] Follow the instructions: Step 1) Search Google.com For "special keygens and hacks" Step 2) Click the 1st or 2nd place result which is a Facebook Page or Pagebin Enjoy! :)

There are some songs in your playlist which u don't want to listen and don't want to delete either ....same is the case with some relationships...you want to keep them no matter what...even if you know that they are there for namesake...

when Clinton strode on stage after a playlist of millennial pop songs—“Happy,” “Stronger,” “Best Day of My Life,” and Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song,” which would plague reporters and rallygoers for the next year—it was like existing in a living, breathing car commercial.

She drowned all of the catnip mice in Nike's water bowl and I had to take them away after he began drinking the resulting 'nip tea, wearing overalls, and changing all the songs in my favorites playlist to the Grateful Dead.

What if..." is my philosophy. I won't say it's plays like a broken record, no, it plays like a I hit the continuous repeat button on a one song playlist. When I see people who are pained and stressed by the world their trapped in, I ask, "What if?" and create their story about why they're constantly rolling their eyes behind their spouses back, then paste a smile when needed. We weren't born to live a life of misery, don't ever believe it. That's just not how it is, it's never too late to find your voice. Dig deep, grasp it and roar.

Before bed, I make a new playlist. It’s a mix of anthems and fight songs that remind me there’s nowhere to go but up.

if personalised playlists were full of sad singers and song writers, I could only blame myself for getting algorithm depressed.

The last game we played was another suggestion of Millie’s called...Truth or Dare Balloons. Millie and I had so much fun thinking up Truth or Dare options which we wrote on small pieces of paper and then slipped inside a heap of balloons before inflating them. To play the game, we needed some fun music so Jack took care of that by selecting some upbeat songs from the playlist on his phone. Everyone had to be dancing while one balloon was passed around the group by bumping it towards each other. If someone allowed the balloon to hit the floor, that person had to pop the balloon and then complete the truth or dare inside it. To

Every time users of Apple’s iTunes add a song to their collection, they are strengthening ties to the service. The songs on a playlist are an example of how content increases the value of a service. Neither iTunes nor their users created the songs, yet the more content users add, the more valuable the music library becomes

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.

I had a playlist called 'Coolness,' in fact, and I just let it rip. The bands were cool, the songs were cool, I was cool for listening to it- and Charlie Yates could go to h***.

Ilya drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the Bad Bunny song that he’d recently added to his pregame playlist.

For the next two hours we trade our interests and disinterests like kids swapping baseball cards, all while my driving playlist cycles through on shuffle in the background. If there are any other saxophone-heavy songs, neither of us notices. ... Like he knows he’s ridiculous. Like he doesn’t mind at all that I’m delighted by his strangeness.

Rhys Koteskiy could never be confined to just one song—he’s a symphony, a never-ending playlist that I want to repeat forever.

There was something to be said for a man who made you a playlist of songs you liked instead of foisting his favorite music on you.