“I still have the passion in my heart. If I don’t sing, my heart doesn’t beat so strong...”
On singing in "Julio Iglesias says 50-year singing career is 'a miracle'" https://www.reuters.com/article/us-people-julio-iglesias/julio-iglesias-says-50-year-singing-career-is-a-miracle-idUSKCN1T60WU in Reuters (2019 Jun 5)
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Julio Iglesias 4
Spanish recording artist; singer-songwriter 1943Related quotes
Bat out of Hell (1977), Bat out of Hell (song)
Context: Then I'm dying at the bottom of a pit in the blazing sun
All torn and twisted at the foot of a burning bike
And I think somebody somewhere must be tolling a bell
And the last thing I see is my heart,
Still beating,
Breaking out of my body
And flying away
Like a bat out of Hell.
In Defense of the Earth (1956), She Is Away
Context: Now I know surely and forever,
However much I have blotted our
Waking love, its memory is still
there. And I know the web, the net,
The blind and crippled bird. For then, for
One brief instant it was not blind, nor
Trapped, not crippled. For one heart beat the
Heart was free and moved itself. O love,
I who am lost and damned with words,
Whose words are a business and an art,
I have no words. These words, this poem, this
Is all confusion and ignorance.
But I know that coached by your sweet heart,
My heart beat one free beat and sent
Through all my flesh the blood of truth.
“I love you. You are my heart beating
outside of my chest.”
Source: Lover at Last
“The beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.”
The Brookside.
“When I cannot sing my heart, I can only speak my mind.”
"Julia" (1968); these lines were adapted from lines of Sand and Foam (1926) by Khalil Gibran: "When life does not find a singer to sing her heart she produces a philosopher to speak her mind."
Lyrics
Heathcliff (Ch. XXXIII).
Source: Wuthering Heights (1847)
Context: I have neither a fear, nor a presentiment, nor a hope of death. Why should I? With my hard constitution, and temperate mode of living, and unperilous occupations, I ought to, and probably shall remain above ground, till there is scarcely a black hair on my head. And yet I cannot continue in this condition! I have to remind myself to breathe — almost to remind my heart to beat! And it is like bending back a stiff spring — it is by compulsion that I do the slightest act, not prompted by one thought; and by compulsion that I notice anything alive or dead, which is not associated with one universal idea. I have a single wish, and my whole being and faculties are yearning to attain it. They have yearned towards it so long and so unwaveringly, that I’m convinced it will be reached — and soon — because it has devoured my existence. I am swallowed up in the anticipation of its fulfilment. My confessions have not relieved me — but they may account for some otherwise unaccountable phases of humour which I show. Oh, God! It's a long fight, I wish it were over!
