They look at what's more important, like subjects to help with the SAT's, etc. They miss that music is vital. It offers a break from a stressful day of science and math and it's different.
When I was a baby, my mother tells me I never slept because I never wanted to miss anything.
Not everything comes along just when you want it. There are times when choices just have to be made or you'll simply miss out.
We're out of control on this loony balloon, barely missing the other planets and stars.
Will you miss him Holly?” he asked suddenly. [. . . ] “No,” she said. “I will not miss him. ” But her eyes told the real story.
Miss Rand now tells us that what we have thought was right is really wrong. The lesson should have read: One for one and none for all.
There was something striking about a single key. It was like a question waiting to be answered, a whole missing a half. Useless on its own, needing something else to be truly defined.
What's missing in the musical theater is producers willing to nurture new work, raise the money and put it on.
Everything happens when it needs to happen; everyone is always where they need to be. You will never miss out on what is meant for you, even if it has to come to you in a roundabout way.
Telling some stories, Miss Leroy says, is committing suicide.
When I discovered Mose Allison I felt I had discovered the missing link between jazz and blues
I miss it, I miss it, I miss it, I make it.
I think that one of the reasons why people look towards the end of humanity is that people are afraid to die alone. If you die alone, the people you love will miss you, or if they die, you miss them - the sorrow is inevitable. When you truly love someone, the thought of losing them forever is horrible.
In fact, I believe to a certain extent a person today who starts with just clay, with no drawing and no painting and no figure drawing, still-life drawing, various things, they miss a great deal.
Clara," he says, my name sounding different somehow when it passes through his lips. "I'll miss you.
So may I, blind fortune leading me, Miss that which one unworthier may attain, And die with grieving.
Miss Caroline seemed unaware that the ragged, denim-shirted and floursack-skirted first grade, most of whom had chopped cotton and fed hogs from the time they were able to walk, were immune to imaginative literature.
When DVDs finally disappear, I'm going to be sad. I'll miss the commentaries.
By sixteen I thought, "Ah, this is all crap, you're all sheep, I'm not going to church, leave me alone. " And then at a certain point in my teens I started to go to Catholic churches, by myself. Not because I wanted to be Catholic, but because I wanted to light a candle and say something like a prayer and just sit there. There was something I was missing or trying to reconnect with. But it was a secret at the time. I'd developed this cynical persona and the last thing I wanted to admit was that I was skulking around churches in my spare time.
The sin of inadvertence, not being alert, not quite awake, is the sin of missing the moment of life-live with unremitting alertness.