When my soul steps to exit this frame, I will be reincarnated as rain.
Sun of my soul! Thou Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou be near.
Logic and sermons never convince, The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul.
Woe is me! The winged words on which my soul would pierce Into the heights of love's rare universe, Are chains of lead around its flight of fire-- I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire.
I like prostitution. My heart has never failed to pound at the sight of one of those provocatively dressed women walking in the rain under the gaslamps, just as the sight of monks in their robes and girdles touches some ascetic, hidden corner of my soul.
People say I am mad. I am not mad. I am trying to heal my soul.
For all my good intentions, there are days when things go wrong or I fall into old habits. When things are not going well, when I'm grumpy or mad, I'll realize that I've not been paying attention to my soul and I've not been following my best routine.
I hold my face in my two hands. No, I am not crying. I hold my face in my two hands to keep the loneliness warm - two hands protecting, two hands nourishing, two hands preventing my soul from leaving me in anger.
I stand before you a weekend version of your reflection begging for direction, for my soul needs resurrection.
You breathed on me and made my life a richer one to live, when I was deep in poverty you taught me how to give. Dried the tears up from my dreams and pulled me from my hole, quenched my thirst and satisfied the burning in my soul.
In each of my characters there is a little of me. Not strictly autobiographical but a little piece of my soul.
I wish I came from a more pure place. I don't have something to say from the bottom of my soul. I just know how to take stuff I like and repackage it in a slightly different way.
I have to pay the bills just like everybody else, but it also pays my soul to work.
My soul is more at rest from the tempter when I am busily employed.
Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull and cut a six inch valley through the middle of my soul.
My soul is lost, my friend, tell me how do I begin again? My city's in ruins, my city's in ruins.
Look into the windows of my soul. The eyes never lie, they bloodshot red.
Empty and cold, but it keep me alive. I gave it my soul, so that I could survive.
Inside the walls of a prison my body may be, but my Lord has set my soul free.
Everyone of them words rang true and glowed like burning coal, pouring off every page like it was written in my soul from me to you.
A restless spirit who can't reach his goal, can't find a home until I've found my soul.
Stood alone on a mountain top, starin' out at the Great Divide. I could go east, I could go west, it was all up to me to decide. Just then I saw a young hawk flyin' and my soul began to rise.
Music touching my soul, the spirit dance was unfolding.
I see men come and go, but there'll be one who'll collect my soul.
I would rather my soul broil in hell than I do you any harm.
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