Quotes About Music

Wouldn't it help you to realize that you really do live in an epic if your life had a soundtrack?

Cleverness can be captivating, both for those who dole it out and those who witness it. Sometimes a dazzling display of erudition and wit can be as entertaining and uplifting as a great piece of music.

Music is what I do, Christ is why I do it

The two of us in that room. No past, no future. All intense deep that-time-only. A feeling that everything must end, the music, ourselves, the moon, everything. That if you get to the heart of things you find sadness for ever and ever, everywhere; but a beautiful silver sadness, like a Christ face.

A thousand violins cloy very rapidly without percussion.

Noi doi singuri în camer?. Nici trecut, nici viitor. Doar intensitatea È™i profunzimea momentului. SenzaÈ›ia c? totul avea în mod implacabil un sfârÈ™it: muzica, noi doi, luna, absolut totul. Dac? reuÈ™eÈ™ti s? p?trunzi în miezul lucrurilor, nu g?seÈ™ti altceva decât tristeÈ›e, numai tristeÈ›e, mereu È™i pretutindeni, dar o tristeÈ›e frumoas?, argintie, precum chipul lui Hristos.

Another thing I said to Caliban the other day-we were listening to Jazz- I said, don't you just dig this? And he says, in the garden. I said he was so square he was hardly credible. Oh, that, he said. Like rain, endless dreary rain. Color-killing.

Accepting the sadness. Knowing that to pretend it was all gay was treachery. Treachery to everyone sad at the moment, everyone ever sad, treachery to such music, such truth.

Totul s-a întâmplat din cauza muzicii. VariaÈ›iunile Goldberg. Spre fârÈ™it, una din ele, foarte lent?. foarte simpl?, foarte trist?, a fost atât de frumoas?, încât nici cuvintele, nici desenul, nici chiar altceva nu o pot descrie, ci numai muzica. Frumoas? în lumina lunii. Muzica lunii, atât de argintie, atât de îndep?rtat?, atât de nobil?.

He was a wanderer by nature, and even if England and the nearer East were closed to him, the world was wide, the sun shone in many places, the stars wheeled over one, books could be read, women had beauty, flowers scent, tobacco its flavour, music its moving power, coffee its fragrance, horses and dogs and birds were the same seductive creatures

without getting near bluegrass, CNN, opera, or a hundred other stations. Out of frustration on her part and fatigue on his, they both threw in the towel early and settled on soft jazz.

At 1:00 a.m., they were in the Welsh pub again, having drinks and talking opera and football.

Poems are the chorus of our lives. the poet sets the words to the music of our souls. Each poem has its own rhythm that drums like a heartbeat.

Ludwig was brought up in a house of music. There were seven grand pianos in his childhood home. The composers Brahms and Mahler were frequent visitors to the musical evenings, and young Pablo Casals played there.

The music of Bach, Beethoven, Schubert and Schumann were amongst his favourites.

He was over there making Yes album covers, and here I was, with my gaudy Trump Towers of rock junk.

him dumfounded as he chanted the Gregorian

Anne-Elisabeth had taken the music from Dr. Horvath and was looking through it. 'I see finger-cramping possibilities, William - lots of them,' she told him. I see music ,' William said, winking at her. ' Lots of it.

God, I think I just hit a high E-flat - and I really held it! Esmeralda said, after one of her more prolonged orgasms, but my ears were warm and sweaty, and my head had been held so tightly between her thighs that I hadn't heard anything.

But the available light in Twisted River was dim and growing dimmer. The dance-hall door blew (or was slammed) closed, cutting off Teresa Brewer as suddenly as if Six-Pack had taken the singer's slender throat in her hands. When the dance-hall door blew (or was kicked) open again, Tony Bennett was crooning "Rags to Riches." Dominic didn't for a moment doubt that the town's eternal violence was partly spawned by irredeemable music.

The operas I loved were nineteenth-century novels!

Kanonische Veränderungen über das Weihnachtslied

William was quite the hand at Couperin's Messe pour les couvents, too, and Alice had been right about the Christmas section from Handel's Messiah. As for the seduced parishioner, the military man's young wife, Jack's mother told him little—only enough that the boy assumed his father hadn't been asked to leave Kastelskirken for flubbing a refrain.

They were William Blake's words, set to song