Quotes About Music

Music is what feelings sound like.

Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure, Thrill the deepest notes of woe.

[M]ore than anything else rhythm and harmony find their way into the secret places of the soul.

The bones of music are the universal rhythms within us all.

A song will outlive all sermons in the memory.

Black care shall be lessened by sweet song.

I think sometimes, could I only have music on my own terms; could I live in a great city and know where I could go whenever I wished the ablution and inundation of musical waves, — that were a bath and a medicine.

Music is said to be the rejoicing of the heart: Music comforteth the mind, and feareth the enemy.

Where gripping griefs the heart would wound, And doleful dumps the mind oppress, There music with her silver sound With speed is wont to send redress: Of troubled minds, in every sore, Sweet music hath a salve in store.

Mozart composed music of radiant vivacity, sparkle, and wit at times when he was crushed by neglect, debt, and the awful discouragement of living his whole life insufficiently compensated and recognized.

Good music can make the difference between a mediocre workout and a slam-damn-fantastic workout!

Music is one of the best ways to enjoy the present. It's not that much fun to look forward to hearing music or to remember what a song sounded like last week, but music right now absorbs us and places us directly in the moment.

Opera is where a guy gets stabbed in the back, and instead of dying, he sings.

Nature's beautiful dancers — flowers, water, leaves Dancing to the music of a sweet gentle breeze...

...marching in line and file to the strains of music... This heroism on command, this senseless violence, this accursed bombast of patriotism — how intensely I despise them! War is low and despicable, and I had rather be smitten to shreds than participate in such doings.

Meridian sunbeams tempt him to unfold His radiant glories, azure, green and gold: He treads as if, some solemn music near, His measured step were govern'd by his ear; And seems to say—Ye meaner fowl, give place, I am all splendour, dignity, and grace!

My thirst and passion from boyhood... has been for poetry — for poetry in its widest and wildest sense — for poetry untrammelled by the laws of sense, rhyme, or rhythm, soaring through the universe, and echoing the music of the spheres! From my youth, nay, from my very cradle, I have yearned for poetry, for beauty, for novelty, for romancement.

I think poetry is the greatest of the arts. It combines music and painting and story-telling and prophecy and the dance. It is religious in tone, scientific in attitude. A true poem contains the seed of wonder...

My poetry, I should think, has become the way of my giving out what music is within me.

A poem compresses much in a tight space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning.

[I]f I had my life to live 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 thus have 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.

Poetry cries melodic tears of verse.

Poetry was music. Poetry was not the thing said, but continual evocation of delicious suggestions of meaning. Poetry was an unconscious crystallization of glittering images upon the bare twig of metre. Poetry, at the nadir of this search for its essence, became the formless babble and vomit of the poet's subconscious mind.

His home is in the heights: to him Men wage a battle weird and dim... The perilous music that he hears Falls from the vortice of the spheres...