Quotes About Music

Marvin bongo drums and a piano and some grass

Na estrada, liguei o rádio e, por sorte, tocava Mozart. A vida pode ser boa em certos momentos, mas, ás vezes, isso depende de nós.

I believe that whatever is necessary is necessary, it is up to you. unfortunately or fortunately I feel my power more and more each passing day, each passing year, of course, there are minor lulls wherein I sincerely think of murdering myself and come very close, especially with hangover. however, this is probably common with most of us.—oh, it was BRAHMS!—damn, I didn't know he wrote such lousy piano stuff.

things begin to lose their natural value as they near human endeavor. nothing against Beethoven: he did fine for what he was but I wouldn't want him on my rug with one leg over his head while he was licking his balls.

The loss of these tastes [for poetry and music] is a loss of happiness, and may possibly be injurious to the intellect, and more probably to the moral character, by enfeebling the emotional part of our nature.

If I had my life over again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once a week; for perhaps the parts of my brain now atrophied would have thus been kept active through use. The loss of these tastes is a loss of happiness, and may possibly be injurious to the intellect, and more probably to the moral character, by enfeebling the emotional part of our nature.

One thing he discovered with a great deal of astonishment was that music held more for him than just pleasure. There was meat to it. The grouping of sounds, their forms in the air as they rang out and faded, said something comforting to him about the rule of creation. What the music said was that there is a right way for things to be ordered so that life might not always be just tangle and drift, but have a shape, an aim. It was a powerful argument against the notion that things just happen.

Musicians add to songs and they evolve: For as was true of human effort, there was never advancement. Everything added meant something lost, and about as often as not the thing lost was preferable to the thing gained, so that over time we'd be lucky if we just broke even. Any thought otherwise was empty pride. p. 380

Ada wondered about his hundreds of tunes. Where were they now and where might they go if he died.

Magic singers proclaiming hope and despair in the dark.

Ask her what she craved and she'd get a little frantic about things like books, the woods, music. Plants and the seasons. Also freedom.

From inside the tavern came the sounds of a fiddle being tuned, various plucks and tentative bowings, then a slow and groping attempt at Aura Lee, interrupted every few notes by unplanned squeaks and howls. Nevertheless the beautiful and familiar tune was impervious to poor performance, and Inman thought how painfully young it sounded, as if the pattern of its notes allowed no room to imagine a future clouded and tangled and diminished.

She draws a long deep breath and hums a bit of "Sunflower Slow Drag," her fingers twitching to press imaginary keys. Soon she falls asleep.

I am sentimentally disposed to harmony but organically incapable of tune.

A traveller on a dusty road ?Strewed acorns on the lea; And one took root and sprouted up, ?And grew into a tree. Love sought its shade at evening-time, ?To breathe its early vows; And Age was pleased, in heights of noon, ?To bask beneath its boughs. The dormouse loved its dangling twigs, ?The birds sweet music bore— It stood a glory in its place, ?A blessing evermore.

A young woman sang a solo in front of a large audience. Her vocal technique was splendid, her intonation excellent, her range significant. Coincidentally, the man who had written the piece of music she sang was sitting in the audience. When the young woman finished, the person sitting beside the composer leaned over and said, "Well, what do you think of her?" Softly the composer responded, "She will be really great when something happens to break her heart.

But if you like shallow lyrics and easy-to-hum-along-with ditties, then you're not going to enjoy the Psalms. The Psalms are for folks who have decided that music is an art that requires the discipline of keen thinking and a heart that is right before God. It is music for the mature. It is not a superficial statement. There are a few, of course, that are very popular: Psalms 1, 23, 91, 100, and parts of 119. But for the most part, only the

Pythagoras concluded that ratios govern not only music but also all other types of beauty. To the Pythagoreans, ratios and proportions controlled musical beauty, physical beauty, and mathematical beauty. Understanding nature was as simple as understanding the mathematics of proportions.

There will be plenty of backup and support, but she's still going to have to do heartbreaking things to people who probably don't understand why the pale woman with the bone-white violin and blood dripping from her fingertips is coming for them.

What band does the necromancer dance to? Boney M.)

It's not just the music. When we develop a working AI or upload minds, we'll need a way of defending it against legal threats. That's what Gianni pointed out to me . . .

and the brain-dead music industry copyright nazis are campaigning for a law to make it mandatory to install secret government spookware in every Walkman—or camera—to prevent home taping from killing Michael Jackson. Absolutely brilliant.

The music of memory has its own pitch,/which not everyone hears.

I thought you were a folk singer.' 'No, I just need a haircut. In point of fact, I can't tell one note from another.' 'That needn't prevent you from being a folk singer.