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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "she was never as beautiful as when she was singing"

you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
She was never mine. I always shared her.
When she was bad
She was very beautiful. Y'know?
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
In a quiet grove of pines under a frosty sky, he helped her out of the sack. She wore severe white hospital pajamas and was beautiful.
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
I'm sorry I was speeding, officer, but I really have to get to the hospital
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
She was too beautiful to be human
She moved so easily all I could think of was sunlight
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
She was locked in time
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
She was the cutest necromancer I ever did see
She probably thought your first language was English; your real first language was Joyce
She Was 18, It Was Summer
To a girl who thought she was moving away
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
I learned never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She is and was
Because, perhaps she was cold
she was waylaid by an octopus
She was cilantro, jalepeno, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
What the hell was she thinking?
She didn't write like Emily Dickinson, but she did live in a house overlooking a cemetery, and I guess he thought that was important.
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
It Was a Beautiful Day When Aunt Norma Died
She was so pleased to learn that she was right
I was tired. It was late. She was Russian.
She always was devious in her beauty
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
The House on the Island Where She Was Born
she was just the dry smell of gasoline
She was like a candle in the wind: unreliable
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
She was feminine in the most displaced sense I had ever seen, a known quality refracted through stained glass windows.
She didn't know what outside was anymore.
She was steady
She was coming out as he was going in.
She knew what she was doing
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
piano outside in the snow. and she was spinning
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
She dreamt she was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty field
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
She was cilantro, jalapeño, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
She was a Surrealist Woman, She was like a Figure in a Dream
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
Existentialism is that girlfriend who cheated on you. Postmodernism is who she was with.
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She was the seed of a strange tomorrow
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
She was free
Outside the train station she was the only person wearing an Orange raincoat and a look of surprise
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She was so tall, and I was so in love
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
The flowers smiled, but she was gone
Besides the part where she was the only one
she was once a stealthy ghostship in the fog, now she shines wherever she walks
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
When we was fat ( ... or, Lord Gym)
When I was your age
I had never known someone whose death was imminent
When I was ten years old
She had never kissed someone so old.
Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few
I was Dan for fifteen minutes and I never want to be Dan again
A poem I wrote when I was 5
There was a time when I was a better person
November 4, 1995
Back when grunge was still cool
So I was balls deep in the guy's ass that night when he turns to me and asks for a kiss. Damn. What a fag.
Climbing cherry trees when I was younger
Nostalgic for a time that I never experienced and for a person I never was
for a moment the whole world was beautiful
She could hit four octaves above high-C, but she never performed in public
She hopes I'm cursed forever to sleep on a twin size mattress, never graduating up in size to add a lover.
His face when she fell
She is Overheard Singing
A poem for two pages of panel art for a comic that was never written
she is the sort of woman who, when put to the magnifying glass, refused to burn
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
This was when I knew my childhood was over
When H.A.R.L.I.E. Was One
When I was five
When I Was One-and-Twenty
I didn't know such things when I was young
When I Was a Boy
When I Was a Lad
I was never any good at maths at school
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
I was the man who never lied. I never lied until today.
A Woman Who Never Was
The Epidemic That Never Was
She will remember your heart when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits
Venus, when she is the evening star
Is it fair for him to love me when she craves his touch?
when she saw the funny side, we introduced my child bride to whisky and gin
I was the center of gravity of Chicago for one beautiful Saturday
She is stupidly keeping herself a secret, when I know she has sparkly things to show me
My Singing was Stolen by Whispers to a False Friend
She is not beautiful
It must be morning when she dreams.
When she is talking to him
Where were you when Kennedy was shot?
She dumped me when she found out I'd been faking my Scottish accent
If I was beautiful like you
when you asked what I was writing, this is what it was
You knew I was a rattlesnake when you picked me up
What I wrote when I was missing David
I remember when it was me who made her skin flush
She doesn't know what he sees, but sometimes it makes his face beautiful
If I was beautiful, I'd know it
I think I was watching the most beautiful thing I have ever seen
I remember when it was me who made her toilet flush
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
When I was a kid, I wanted to get tuberculosis
When touch was simple
It was late when he came home; it woke you up
The skyline was beautiful on fire
I wonder when I learned to smile when I was being hurt
Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
The real reason pi was never calculated to a high precision in ancient times
Nothing Was Beautiful and Everything Hurt
I was never broken
She sang of fantastic green islands, and sparkling fish, never telling that she haunted the waters
She started to fall, and knew she would never come back
Tribute to the Man Who Never Was (document)
I can never be sure if it was real or just another illusion
There was never supposed to be an Episode 7, 8, or 9
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
She bought a new smile every week when we first started seeing each other. Then I had to buy them.
"I'm sure your song is beautiful," she laughed
the little friendship that never was
I would have liked thunder when she left
I never even went to Las Vegas, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt
Despite her station, the quarry was never alone
I was not made for love songs, and love songs will never be made for me.
She took a California tilt and never came back.
I never told you she stole my heart
And when she turned into a man, we were so proud
My father's secret life was never meant to be secret
some say he was never here at all
There never was a body that gave the undertaker a tip
"My God," she said, "I'm beautiful."
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
I'm the only person who'd ever told him to his face he was beautiful.
She is what happens when silence makes love with night.
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
When she died
And When She Sings
Two of them. Hovering there like bloated gas giants in the heavens. Good God, it was beautiful.
When she shouts BE QUIET THE NEIGHBORS WILL HEAR IF YOU'RE NOT QUIET
every day she stands there, waiting. every day, she's gone when i get there.
she couldn’t go and be beautiful

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