“I heard, for the first time— nothing. I danced and did somersaults, lay down in a bed of grass, felt the breeze.And for the first time, I heard my heart, and I knew who I was.”

“But I saw this video, not even the whole thing, and I just knew that it was going to be my favorite song for...for the rest of my life. And it still is. It's still my favorite song...Lincoln, I said you were cute because I didn't know how to say--because I didn't think I was allowed to say--anything else. But every time I saw you, I felt like I did the first time I heard that song.”

“I knew,” he continued, “you would do me good in some way, at some time;—I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not”—(again he stopped)—“did not” (he proceeded hastily) “strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing. People talk of natural sympathies; I have heard of good genii: there are grains of truth in the wildest fable. My cherished preserver, goodnight!”

“Like that time I came home and Mum was sick, not letting me upstairs. Later on I heard Dad actually blaming her for being sick. That must have been the first time I felt queer.”

“I have heard great music--even sublime music. I've heard music fit for princes, for kings. I have hard music fit for any monarch. But that night, for the first time in my life, I heard music fit for God.”

“I was in a tailspin of confusion I hadn't experienced since the first time I heard George W. Bush speak.”