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I am producing sounds that people are not used to hearing from the harp.

You can get swept away by a musical, but real tears are rare.

We hear tears loudly on this side of Heaven. What we don't take time to contemplate are the even louder cheers on the other side of death's valley.

Tears are often the telescope by which men see far into heaven.

I call myself a harp because I like the sound of the word - it is short, sharp, and abusive.

I grew up with a beautiful gold harp sitting in our living room. My older sister played it.

Tears are the noble language of the eye.

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.