The hills are alive with the sound of music, with songs they have sung for a thousand years.

I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm.

Hello, Young Lovers, Wherever You Are.

Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart.

I'd let my golden chances pass me by.

Berlin's great secret is that he says exactly what he means; sometimes he hits a gigantic line both musically and lyrically -- almost Wagnerian in its strength.

Do you love me because I'm beautiful, or am I beautiful because you love me?