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Drums Quotes

Browse 20 quotes about Drums.

Drums Quotes

“Music shouldn't be just a tune, it should be a touch.”

“This has been an afternoon of romantic omens, gentle on the heart, but why me? Love never happens to me. Everything else, but not love. Does Arnold play drums? Guess I never asked. I’ve been terribly insensitive this last year. I haven’t even checked to see if he has a TikTok account.”

“There’s a reason for the word heartbeat not be called beat of heart. The perfect woman only needs a good beat. The heart will follow. Emotions, when put in equilibrium with reason, create more miracles than any emotion, no matter how strong, deprived from reason. This is why it’s much easier to love a woman that can play the drums or any other instrument with rhythm, than one that believes in unreasonable magic, simply because there’s more magic in reason than in the lack of it. You see, loving someone that you truly want to love, someone you admire, someone you want to spend your time with, helping, sharing and growing together, makes much more sense than expecting someone to love you for no reason than your will, needs and desires. And when humans understand this, they will understand love, find it easily and never lose it again.”

“The insistent drums were an unwelcome reminder of the existence of another world, wholly autonomous, with its own necessities and patterns. The message they were beating out, over and over, was for her; it was saying, not precisely that she did not exist but rather that it did not matter whether she existed or not, that her presence was of no consequence to the rest of the cosmos. It was a sensation that suddenly paralyzed her with dread. There had never been any question of her “mattering”; it went without saying that she mattered, because she was important to herself. But what was the part of her to which she mattered?”

“Our society seems something akin to an auditorium full of people holding drums. And the insanity inherent in this scene is that every person is clutching stacks of blank sheet music, no one knows what a metronome is, and none of these apparent musicians have a lick of musical experience. And in the deafening chaos of the acoustic bedlam that fills every corner of that room, every single person is voicing the incessant demand that everyone else in the room march to the beat of their own particular drum (even though they’re entirely uncertain as to what that beat is). And in the ensuing pandemonium, the beat that I’m going to march to is the one that marches me right out of that room.”

“Music is the fastest motivator in the world.”

“Behind me, the setting sun stained the black-and-white tiles of the hall floor a shimmering shade of tangerine, and my long shadow seemed to pulse to the beat of the drums. Even the garden, usually buzzing with the orchestra of its denizens, had quieted to hear the drums. There was a string- a string tied to my gut that pulled me toward those hills, commanding me to go, to hear the faerie drums...”

“We kissed and pressed up against each other, and I said to her “Ya know, my first kiss I ever had with anyone, it was with a boy, in the back of a school bus at night.” Lotty stopped kissing me for a second. “That’s disgusting,” she said. “What? It’s not like we had much choice in where we did it. Kinda had to sneak around in those days. Get it in when and where we could.” “No, I mean the fact that your first kiss was with a boy.” “What’s wrong with that?” “Boys are gross.”

“You’ll see no mercy from this place, kid,” Wendel Trope said, holding on to his bottle in his lap, “you’ve wandered into a tiny sliver of Hell. Fall asleep with your eyes closed and it’ll swallow you hole. Happens to everyone eventually though, it’s not something you can avoid by doing anything with your life differently. I haven’t found it yet, but supposedly there’s something… good about everything,” he laughed at that, drinking, letting the liquid spill out over his lips and onto his shirt, “I dunno, maybe it’s just under the dirt somewhere. Really deep down where they bury all the bodies.”

“Fag Bush Betty leaned against the sink and the supports whined under her weight, but she leaned anyway and picked stuff out of her teeth, using the mirror as a reference. She stopped after a few crevices and looked at herself. I’d seen a ton of women give themselves that look to themselves in the mirror before. Those eyes were searching for the answer. The way her eyebrows made her forehead wrinkle up, and her chapped lips and skin that was loose on parts of body gave her a very gaunt texture and appearance. I didn’t need a change of light or a particular aimed luminescence to see the extreme parts of her. I could see her spine, and every bone in it. She turned the faucet on and ran water into her hands, splashing it onto her face and letting the beads run down her cheeks, over the edge of her chin and down beside the veins in her neck. “I do that sometimes too,” I said. She turned her head with her back still facing me. “That, right there, stand above the sink and using the water like that,” I said, “never helps though, but it’s funny how it makes your eyes burn. I’ll take a shower sometimes and get real clean. I’ll wash everything. Later that night I’ll have a freak out and walk over to the sink, same as you, naked as hell. I’ll splash water on my face but still when it gets in my eyes it burns. Like there’s some dirt or sweat that I missed while in the shower. It always happens that way. I can’t seem to get everything, and my eyes just… burn. Sometimes the sweat really makes them sting. And there’s nothing you can really do about it, ya have to let it burn until it washes out.”