The guitar poured out its soul, its history, its dreams, its pain, its victories, its secrets. The guitar’s strings purred with blues and ended with a haunting solitary song with no lyrics.

The guitar breathed. It inhaled and exhaled, and music filled the shop as the instrument picked the heartbreak of generations.

A real musician ain’t gonna choose his own guitar like an evil master choosing his slave. The guitar will choose his master and when he does, you’ll know it.

The place cast a spell on me, a lovely spell that seduced me one one breath at a time.

When you scratch these guitars, they bleed.

There’s secrets hiding inside this six-string just waitin’ for somebody to find ‘em and turn ‘em into music.

As he farmed, hard labor left his hands callused, the sun bleached his hair, his face leathered, and his heart throbbed with music.

A song rises up from the belly of my pastand rocks me in the bosom of buried memories.

Songs. Books. Poetry. Paintings. These things reveal truth. I believe lies and truth are tangled together.

I could go to a dozen houses, scrape away the dirt, and find his footprints, but my own prints evaporated before I ever looked back.

There are parents who use their small children as weapons. They are weak people. Sick people. And their children are watching them, watching how Mom and Dad use them as weapons.

The power of music feels like taking a a nice brake from this busy world

Dwell purely on positive thoughts.

After God and my family, it's surf. I don't imagine me not surfing. Surf brings me smile every day.

The physical doctrine of the atom has got into a state which is strongly suggestive of the epicycles of astronomy before Copernicus .

The fine tuning of the universe provides prima facie evidence of deistic design.

As I made my way home, I thought Jem and I would get grown but there wasn't much else for us to learn, except possibly algebra.

And I'll wash your other clothes. Shall I also order you a new set of leathers?" "Don't-" Wrath shut his mouth. "Sure. That'd be great. And, ah, could you get me some boxers? Black? XXL?

Nature's imagination far surpasses our own.

As the soul is the life of the body, so God is the life of the soul. As therefore the body perishes when the soul leaves it, so the soul dies when God departs from it.

It's a very complicated landscape and I don't think there's one easy answer about it [Edard Snowden movie].