Quotes About Instruments

The instruments for the quest for Truth are as simple as they are difficult.

The stage show grew gradually until one day they realized that all the props and special effects took up more space in the van than the instruments.

Ron Carter was accompanied by two guitars and playing a Milt Jackson song called "Bags' Groove.

scientific research was much like prospecting: you went out and you hunted, armed with your maps and your instruments, but in the end your preparations did not matter, or even your intuition. You needed your luck, and whatever benefits accrued to the diligent, through sheer, grinding hard work.

Markets are useful instruments for organizing productive activity. But unless we want to let the market rewrite the norms that govern social institutions, we need a public debate about the moral limits of markets.

He had approached the villa on that night of the storm not out of curiosity about the music but because of a danger to the piano player. The retreating army often left pencil mines within musical instruments. Returning owners opened up pianos and lost their hands. People would revive the swing on a grandfather clock, and a glass bomb would blow out half a wall and whoever was nearby.

He had approached the villa on that night of the storm not out of curiosity about the music but because of a danger to the piano player. The retreating army often left pencil mines within musical instruments. Returning owners opened up pianos and lost their hands.

I need boundaries. In the modern studio there are a bunch of instruments around me, and I can simulate anything I can't play, so sometimes the palette feels too big.

In the hierarchy of instruments, if you're a harpist, you're considered someone with a brain much more than if you're a singer.

To me, the appeal of opera lies in the fact that a myriad of singers and instruments, each possessed of different qualities of voice and sound, against the backdrop of a grand stage and beautiful costumes, come together in one complete and impressive drama.

My dad loved black singers. So listening to New Orleans music, eventually I wanted to play an instrument.

Music has always been part of my family's life. My brother, sister, and I all have the same ability to pick up an instrument and play.

With seven boys and one sister, there was always a lot of music in the house. A few of my brothers were playing instruments, so it was from hearing that, coupled with discovering early rock, which triggered me to pick up a guitar and try to pick out the notes.

My house was filled with music. We had a piano, and my brothers and sisters played instruments. Even though I was around it, I played basketball.

My mum was a music teacher. I've got three sisters, and we all played instruments when we were kids.

I've never played instruments. I've always been a singer or a writer, for that matter. But I started playing in bands when I was sixteen years old.

My father worked in a scientific lab where he designed and built glass instruments. He was regarded as brilliant at his job and once constructed a human brain in glass just to show off his skills.

Everything is the will of God - we are only instruments of her will and we learn to just love and accept.

I am determined that only the deepest love will induce me into matrimony. So... I shall end an old maid, and teach your ten children to embroider cushions and play their instruments very ill.

I love Gibsons, and Nationals, too. There's something magical about them.

They tested every electrical system. They rebuilt instruments, checked circuits, wiggled wires, dusted plugs. They climbed into the dish and placed duct tape over every seam and rivet. They climbed back into the dish with brooms and scrubbing brushes and carefully swept it clean5 of what they referred to in a later paper as 'white dielectric material', or what is known more commonly as bird shit.

Any attempt to measure one will unavoidably disturb the other. This isn't a matter of simply needing more precise instruments; it is an immutable property of the universe.

in the middle of all the static, I heard a familiar name clear as A on the piano in the middle of all the tuning instruments of an orchestra.

The clocks had nothing to do with time but were merely instruments, the clicking and ticking of silver and gold and bronze and pinchbeck arrows, a droll and slapstick rhapsody of lies.