Quotes About Music

It is arrogance to expect that life will always be music.... Harmony, like a following breeze at sea, is the exception. In a world where most things wind up broken or lost, our lot is to tack and tune.

Talking is like playing on the harp, there is as much in laying the hand on the strings to stop their vibrations as in twanging them to bring out their music.

I have always been driven by some distant music-a battle hymn no doubt-for I have been at war from the beginning. I've never looked back before. I've never had the time and it has always seemed so dangerous.

Only sick music makes money today.

The scratches in Yoko Ono records are moments of relief.

The spirit hits them and they follow (My italics) Louis Armstrong Mumbo Jumbo [Mandingo m?-m?-gyo-mb?, "magician who makes the troubled spirits of ancestors go away": m?-m?, grandmother+gyo, trouble+ mb?, to leave.] The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language

So don't ask me how to catch Jes Grew. Ask Louis Armstrong, Bessie Smith, your poets, your painters, your musicians, ask them how to catch it. Ask those people who be shaking their tambourines impervious of the ridicule they receive from Black and White Atonists, Europe the ghost rattling its chains down the deserted halls of their brains.

Several notes were missing. They had always been missing, except for two that I had levered out with a poker when three...The anticipated thrill of a missing G or an E Flat was like a good joke, told again and again, always fresh. I believe that my present feeling for silences and emptinesses dates from those sing-songs, the awaited non-note on the beat.

Eve engaged her On Duty sign and stepped out of the car. Immediately her ears were assaulted with a blast of music. Christmas carols pumped, full blast, into the air. She decided that people ran inside, ready to buy anything, just to escape the noise.

The music room's in the next wing. We can have coffee and brandy there." "I doubt we'd share the same taste in music, Roarke." "You might be surprised," he murmured, "at what we share." He touched her cheek again, this time sliding his hand around until it cupped the back of her neck. "At what we will share.

Music isn't just a bunch of notes strung together, sweetheart. It's life. It's memory. Songs trigger specific and often predictable emotional reactions. Music's an expression of emotion, desires.

The mind, and the unconscious mind in particular, is a canvas. We paint on it constantly. Art and music can add such colors, such style.

Creative people study other people; and music is a science as much as an art, an emotion as much as a science.

Maybe if they played those poppy, jingling Christmas songs on an endless loop in the tank it would be enough.

Music on," he ordered, and the swelling sounds of the aria from Carmen he'd already programmed into the entertainment system filled the room. Gorgeous, he thought

box, lifted the wrapped lid. And nearly blubbered again when she saw the little music box. When

dirge swelled, then without warning, he turned his head

Therapy is to make one happy. What is the point of that? Happy people are not interesting. Better to accept the burden of unhappiness and try to turn it into something worthwhile, poetry or music or painting: that is what he been believes.

Yet is it not the heart but the members of play that elevate us above the beasts: the fingers with which we touch the clavichord or the flute, the tongue with which we jest and lie and seduce. Lacking members of play, what is there left for beasts to do when they are bored but sleep?

Can he find it in his heart to love this plain, ordinary woman? Can he love her enough to write a music for her? If he cannot, what is left for him?

Lo que él quiere saber es qué tienen que ver las estrellas con los números, qué tienen que ver los números con la música y cómo puede una persona inteligente como Juan Sebastián Arroyo hablar de estrellas, números y música en una misma frase.

kalbos prigimtis yra daina, o dainos prigimtis - poreikis pripildyti gars? perd?m erdvi?, apytušt? žmogaus siel?.

Truly, the world ought to belong to the singers and dancers!

The thread of will-they-or-won't-they was the real driver of every word and glance and shift of body. So...this was a date, Blay thought. A subtextual negotiation slipcovered in talk of books read and music enjoyed.