And who shall say — whatever disenchantment follows — that we ever forget magic, or that we can ever betray, on this leaden earth, the apple tree, the singing, and the gold?
Opera is when a guy gets stabbed in the back, and, instead of bleeding, he sings.
I am all for singing. If I had had children, I should have hounded them into choirs and choral societies, and if they weren't good enough for that, I would have sent them out, to sing in the streets.
—Sylvia Townsend Warner
The first time I sang in the church choir; two hundred people changed their religion.
My heart is like a singing bird.
No opera plot can be sensible, for people do not sing when they are feeling sensible.
—W. H. Auden