"Tomorrow you might get a phone call about something wonderful and you might get a phone call about something terrible"
About this Quote
Spektor’s line lands like a lullaby sung with the lights half on: gentle, intimate, and quietly alarming. The image is banal on purpose. Not a telegram, not a dramatic knock at the door, just a phone call - the most ordinary delivery system for the extraordinary. That’s the point. Modern life doesn’t announce itself with trumpets; it interrupts you mid-dishwashing.
The symmetry of “something wonderful” and “something terrible” is doing heavy emotional work. She doesn’t moralize or rank them, doesn’t even pretend you can prepare. “Might” is the operative word: the future as a coin flip, but also as a constant low-grade suspense. The sentence moves like a shrug, yet it’s a shrug that contains a whole worldview: contingency over control, fragility over planning.
There’s also a sly critique of how we experience fate now. News of births, deaths, diagnoses, jobs, breakups, wars - they arrive through the same glowing rectangle. The phone collapses distance and scale; it makes the miraculous and the catastrophic feel equally close, equally possible, equally capable of hijacking your day. Spektor’s intent isn’t to scare you so much as to tune your attention: to the thin membrane between “normal” and “changed forever.”
In the context of a songwriter’s sensibility, it reads like a secular prayer. Not optimism, not doom - readiness. A reminder that tomorrow isn’t a promise, it’s an inbox.
The symmetry of “something wonderful” and “something terrible” is doing heavy emotional work. She doesn’t moralize or rank them, doesn’t even pretend you can prepare. “Might” is the operative word: the future as a coin flip, but also as a constant low-grade suspense. The sentence moves like a shrug, yet it’s a shrug that contains a whole worldview: contingency over control, fragility over planning.
There’s also a sly critique of how we experience fate now. News of births, deaths, diagnoses, jobs, breakups, wars - they arrive through the same glowing rectangle. The phone collapses distance and scale; it makes the miraculous and the catastrophic feel equally close, equally possible, equally capable of hijacking your day. Spektor’s intent isn’t to scare you so much as to tune your attention: to the thin membrane between “normal” and “changed forever.”
In the context of a songwriter’s sensibility, it reads like a secular prayer. Not optimism, not doom - readiness. A reminder that tomorrow isn’t a promise, it’s an inbox.
Quote Details
| Topic | Live in the Moment |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
More Quotes by Regina
Add to List













