Quotes About Music

there's a shitload of insufferable know-it-all hipsters who will work for next to nothing for the privilege of condescending to customers about their musical knowledge.

My ma had a record of that Moron Tallywacker Choir singin' Christmas music. Sounded like someone hurtin' a dog. I broke it and melted it on the radiator.

Strum one chord on that thing, you bellowing cow, and I will beat you to death with it and dismember your corpse with the strings.

You know why those guys with the bagpipes have daggers on their belts, right? So they can stab themselves in the fucking legs to take their minds off the music.

Have you never met anyone who works in a record store? There's no greater repository of unjustified arrogance in the world. I'd poison my employees if I thought I could find replacements.

While the rest of the band was being a storm, she was the sun busting through thick, gray clouds. With the first thing she sang, you had to wonder why this band was called Herman E. Calloway and the Dusky Devastators of the Depression, or Herman E. Calloway and the Nubian Knights, it should be called Miss Thomas and the Dusky Devastators of the Depression and a Mean Old Guy on the Giant Fiddle.

and his momma never told him who his father was. But she left a clue: posters of Herman E. Calloway and his famous band, the Dusky Devastators of the Depression!!!!!! Bud's got

who his father was. But she left a clue: posters of Herman E. Calloway and his famous band, the Dusky Devastators of the Depression!!!!!! Bud's got an idea that those posters will lead him to his father. Once he decides to hit the road and find this mystery man, nothing can stop him—not hunger, not cops, not vampires, not even Herman E. Calloway himself. "A crackerjack read-aloud.

Ten-year-old Bud is a motherless boy on the run, and his momma never told him who his father was. But she left a clue: posters of Herman E. Calloway and his famous band, the Dusky Devastators of the Depression!!!!!! Bud's got an idea that those posters will lead him to his father. Once he decides to hit the road and find this mystery man, nothing can stop him—not hunger, not cops, not vampires, not even Herman E. Calloway himself.

Listening to music, reading novels, watching films, and even looking at art can act as a gateway into your deepest emotions.

basso ostinado

The daisies and buttercups nodded in the breeze, like skinny-necked old ladies listening to dance music. What if necessary evil had an opposite? This is what it would be. This unnecessary good. For the first time in days, Mo smiled.

The Frenchman doesn't really know what he wants, but knows perfectly well that he doesn't want what he has. And the only way he knows of saying it is by singing songs.

The musicians-how shall one begin to describe them? All this time they have been there, playing in a mad frenzy-all of this scene must be read, or said, or sung, to music. It is the music which makes it what it is; it is the music which changes the place from the rear room of a saloon in back of the yards to a fairy place, a wonderland, a little corner of the high mansions of the sky.

He is playing a bass part upon his cello, and so the excitement is nothing to him; no matter what happens in the treble, it is his task to saw out one long-drawn and lugubrious note after another, from four o'clock in the afternoon until nearly the same hour next morning, for his third of the total income of one dollar per hour.

All that men had felt and suffered had been recorded and preserved in musical sound, a heritage for those who had ears to hear and minds to understand.

Laurel listened, too, and now and then stole glances at the rapt faces about her; so she learned what was in the hearts of the ill-clad and hungry people whom she had been watching on the streets of this war-torn city. They wanted beauty, they wanted love, they wanted the fire of the spirit, the dreams and the glory—all the gifts which Hansi Robin had been laboring for thirty years to put into his music.

One might look at a Rembrandt picture, or hear a Beethoven symphony, without depriving others of the privilege; but one couldn't become an oil king without taking oil away from others.

You couldn't listen to sweet songs about injustice unless you expected justice and received it much of the time. You couldn't sing songs about the end of the world unless-like the other people in that room, so beautiful with such simple things: African mats on the floor and African hangings on the wall and spears and masks-you felt that the world was going on and you were safe in it. How easy it was, in that room, to make those assumptions!

Válmíki,(2)bird of charming song,(3)   Who mounts on Poesy's sublimest spray, And sweetly sings with accent clear and strong   Ráma, aye Ráma, in his deathless lay. Where breathes the man can listen to the strain   That flows in music from Válmíki's tongue, Nor feel his feet the path of bliss attain   When Ráma's glory by the saint is sung!

Gesualdo's Tenebrae Responsories for his son to upload to his iPod and listen to on the day of his burial.

In answer to the dominatrix at the Torture Garden, I would say that anyone who wears clothes, listens to music, goes to the movies, or is on the Internet might want to know more about fetishism. Certainly, anyone who is "into" fashion has to address the issue.

How utterly death separated the lover from the things he loved! Here by the cabin door he kicked the snow away, and sitting where she had fallen, he played a few of the melodies he had played during those few immortal weeks when they were man and wife.

Perfect worlds do not exist. There are only the funny, strange, weeping, singing, truncated, and imperfect universes created by the gods of paintbrush and musical instruments, the gods who infuse their creations with their own blood, their own soul. When he looks at these worlds, the true Lord of Hosts, the creator of the universe, probably cannot help but smile mockingly