I would like to be Maria, but there is La Callas who demands that I carry myself with her dignity.
When Callas carried a grudge, she planted it, nursed it, fostered it, watered it and watched it grow to sequoia size.
The most widely criticised singers in the history of opera, Maria Callas and Franco Corelli, happen also to be the best singers. I am honoured for being part of their group.
It didn't feel organic and [Tito] Gobbi was one of the artists that was able to, along with Maria Callas, incorporate not just the sound, but the emotion, the technique of the singing.
When I was a teenager, I dreamed of being an opera singer like Maria Callas or a jazz singer like June Christy or Chris Connor, or approaching songs with the kind of mystical lethargy of Billie Holiday, or championing the downtrodden like Lotte Lenya. But I never dreamed of singing in a rock-and-roll band.
The best-case scenario here is that you make friends with a boy who's going to die." "Ah," said Calla, in a very, very knowing way. "Now I see." "Don't psychoanalyse me," her mother said. "I already have. And I say again, 'ah'.
The calla lilies are in bloom again. Such a strange flower—suitable to any occasion. I carried them on my wedding day, and now I place them here in memory of something that has died.
I will not enter into a public feud with Madame Callas, since I am well aware that she has considerably greater competence and experience at that kind of thing than I have.
Elvis Presley is my spiritual father, and as you may know Maria Callas is my spiritual mother.
In those days, you had to like one or the other. You couldn't like Sutherland AND Callas.
For sheer strength of character, I wouldn't have dared to cross swords with Callas. I would rather have gone six rounds with Jack Dempsey.
The first opera I went to see was Maria Callas singing 'Tosca'.
I search and can't find myself. I belong in chrysanthemum time, sharp in calla lily elongations. God made my soul into an ornamental thing.
Maura whirled towards Blue. "Blue, if you ever see that man again, you just walk the other way." "No," Calla corrected. "Kick him in the nuts. Then run the other way.
Calla readjusted, wrapping the silk around her other thigh instead. "Which one's he again? The pretty one?" Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue's look said, I'm so, so sorry. Gansey's said, Am I the pretty one?
I'm very nearly drunk enough to be transcendent," Calla said after a space. She was not the only psychic drinking, but she was the closest one to transcendence. Persephone peered dubiously into the bottom of her own glass. In a very small voice (her voice was always small), she said sadly, "I am not drunk at all." Maura offered, "It's the Russian in you." "Estonian,"Persephone replied.
When does it happen?" "It already has," Calla replied. Her eyes opened and fixed on Blue. "And it hasn't yet. Time' circular, chicken. We use the same parts of it over and over. Some of us more than others.
I thought you said scrying was a bad idea.” “It's like vodka,” Calla said. “It really depends on who's doing it.
Then Maura made something with butter and Calla made something with bacon and Blue steamed broccoli in self-defense.
The calla lilies are in bloom again.
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