Quotes About Music

You know it's going to hell when the best rapper out there is white and the best golfer is black.

The dance can reveal everything mysterious that is hidden in music, and it has the additional merit of being human and palpable. Dancing is poetry with arms and legs.

Joan Jett at the far left, staring straight into the camera, her eyes dragging me in. Just like the mystery chick at the Stop-N-Go.

The floor behind the driver's seat was littered with eight-tracks, but at night it was always Frampton Comes Alive!

There was a pothole thump, and "Wind of Change" jumped back to "Show Me the Way.

first heard the song "Tuxedo Junction" in 1941. I was an MP in Colorado, pulling guard duty at Lowry Field for the Army Air Corps. Most people think it was Glenn Miller who first made that song famous, but it was a black bandleader named Erskine Hawkins.

Stone walls confine a tinker cold iron binds a witch but a musician's music can never be fettered, for it lives first in her heart and mind.

In came a fiddler… and tuned like fifty stomachaches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile.

Poetry makes life what lights and music do the stage.

I am no more annoyed when I think of the expression, than I should be annoyed by a man's opinion of a picture of mine, who had no eye for pictures; or of a piece of music of mine, who had no ear for music.

The fire? It has been alive as long as I have. We talk and think together all night long. It's like a book to me – the only book I ever learned to read; and many an old story it tells me. It's music, for I should know its voice among a thousand, and there are other voices in its roar. It has its pictures too. You don't know how many strange faces and different scenes I trace in the red-hot coals. It's my memory, that fire, and shows me all my life.

When she spoke, Tom held his breath, so eagerly he listened; when she sang, he sat like one entranced. She touched his organ, and from that bright epoch even it, the old companion of his happiest hours, incapable as he had thought of elevation, began a new and deified existence.

Ah! poetry makes life what light and music do the stage—strip the one of the false embellishments, and the other of its illusions, and what is there real in either to live or care for?

When a waggon with a train of beautiful horses, furnished with red trappings and clear-sounding bells came by us with its music, I believe we could all three have sung to the bells, so cheerful were the influences around.... We had stopped, and the waggon had stopped too. Its music changed as the horses came to a stand, and subsided to a gentle tinkling, except when a horse tossed his head, or shook himself, and sprinkled off a little shower of bellringing.

until I almost thought he would gradually blow his whole being into the large hole at the top, and ooze away at the keys.

He is a musical man, an Amateur, but might've been a Professional. He is an Artist, too; an Amateur, but might've been a Professional. He is a man of attainments and of captivating manners.

And this reminds me of my own village church where, during sermon-time on bright Sundays when the birds are very musical indeed, farmers' boys patter out over the stone pavement, and the clerk steps out from his desk after them, and is distinctly heard in the summer repose to pursue and punch them in the churchyard, and is seen to return with a meditative countenance, making believe that nothing of the sort has happened.

Some of us may have experienced it when we find ourselves cooperating naturally and effortlessly, instruments of a purpose greater than ourselves that, paradoxically, makes us individual more and not less when we abandon ourselves to it. It is what musicians are referring to when they say "The music played the band

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. Not being bought and sold by some idiot employer, not having the moments of her days valued in fractions of a dollar by somebody other than herself.

One thing he discovered with a great deal of astonishment was that music held for him more then 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 that life did not just happen.

I take the music of language very seriously. Like a heartbeat, it exists right below consciousness — it animates and infuses your language with life.... A good sentence should sound good and feel good and roll comfortably off your tongue, not simply serve as a conveyor for ideas.

The music may have stopped but my heart beats to another tune, this rhythm called love.

F.B., "Notes of Music," 1848

Take a music-bath once or twice a week for a few seasons, and you will find that it is to the soul what the water-bath is to the body.