Quotes About Music

If I didn't have music, I don't know if I could ever be truly happy, and if I didn't have these moments, I would never find music. It is everywhere, in the air between us, waiting to be sung.

We all understand that this is just music. We all understand these songs were written Before - there is no way the band could have known how we would hear them After. But the songs ring true.

It is a horrible wonderful thing to be in love with you. To get to hear you sing for hour after hour but never be the subject of the song. To listen and listen and listen.

Life fails. Songs don't always.

Ardent, adj.: It was as if the whole world could be reduced to the sound of a single string being played, and the only thing this sound could make me think of was you.

Kat: You can't just buy me a guitar every time you mess up, you know. Pat: I know, but there's still drums, and a bass, and maybe even someday a tambourine.

I think they would like the songs better if I left out the names, or changed the pronouns.

I am a solo flier looking out over the land of Boyfriends and Girlfriends. I am three notes in the middle of a song.

No, Tiny. Words. Passion. The danger of falling in love is you mistakenly believe the loved one is the only source of passion in your life. But there is passion everywhere. In music. In words. In the stories you tell and the stories you see. Find passion everywhere, and share it widely. Don't narrow it down to one thin line.

Just listen to the music and paint. Follow the sound. Don't think about rules. Don't worry about getting it perfect. Just let the song carry you." "But what about instructions?" "There are no other instructions.

We listen to songs to figure them out, to unravel the mystery of the words and the tune.

We roll down the windows and crank the radio - we like the idea of our music spilling out over the whole neighbourhood, becoming part of the air.

You look about as tiny as Idina Menzel's voice.

Nichts zählt mehr, nur der Bass in meiner Hand, der Lärm in meinen Ohren. (2. Satz, 1. Kapitel)

Nichts zählt mehr, nur der Bass in meiner Hand, der Lärm in meinen Ohren.

I am three notes in the middle of a song.

My voice is blind, my hearing is mute, my sight is deaf. Art is science, mathematics is conversation, and music is something that bleeds. I am so far away that I am inside myself. I barely notice colors unless I taste them. Not the yellows or the greens. I taste the deeper blues. The darker reds.

The song "Dream a Little Dream of Me" comes on Tariq's playlist, which makes Harry think of the movie Beautiful Thing, as Tariq no doubt knew it would. Harry can feel Craig smile under his lips, and knows he must be sharing the same thought. As confirmation, Harry feels Craig's finger on his back, tracing the letter B, then T. They start to shuffle and slow-dance. It feels good to move their legs.

Some people have lives; some people have music.

Because what is life if not a series of loud and quiet moments shuffled together with some music thrown in?

But isn't this a dance? Isn't all of this a dance? Isn't that what we do with words? Isn't that what we do when we talk, when we spar, when we make plans or leave it to chance? Some of it's choreographed. Some of the steps have been done for ages. And the rest—the rest is spontaneous. The rest has to be decided on the floor, in the moment, before the music ends.

The tune here is an old-fashioned town-crowd melody--kind of like how the people from the town in The Music Man might sound if Harold Hill had brought an infant homosexual to town instead of wind instruments.

Tiny is trying his darnedest to start a musical conversation with Phil, but at first, Phil's not into it. Luckily, Tiny's persistent—like Angel in Rent, but without the cross-dressing and the specter of AIDS hovering over everything.

Se podría decir que escribí toda una novela sólo para cambiar el final de una canción.