Quotes About Music

Tell your mom he said, 'Sibelius.' It's all he thinks about. I mean going there," she added.

Heather moved her fingers all the while they were walking, as if she were unconsciously playing a piano or an organ.

Jack had inquired if much music had been written for organ and cello—he certainly hadn't heard any—but the woman from Sibelius Academy said that Ritva and Hannele were famous for being "improvisational.

Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor—

I almost always have a notebook with me... a notebook is a nice thing to have in a room, the same way it's nice to have a musical instrument in a stand. .. it makes the household gods happy.

Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad…

was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?

Softly the breezes from the forest came, Softly they blew aside the taper's flame; Clear was the song from Philomel's far bower; Grateful the incense from the lime-tree flower; Mysterious, wild, the far-heard trumpet's tone; Lovely the moon in ether, all alone: Sweet too, the converse of these happy mortals, As that of busy spirits when the portals Are closing in the west; or that soft humming We hear around when Hesperus is coming. Sweet be their sleep.

Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them; thou has thy music too.

For so delicious were the words she sung,it seem'd he had loved them a whole summer long.

Nada es estable en el mundo. El tumulto es vuestra única música.

I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspir'd. So let me be thy choir, and make a moan Upon the midnight hours; Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet From swinged censer teeming; Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming. Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane In some untrodden region of my mind, Where branched thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain, Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind: - Ode to Psyche - Excerpt

A voice came sweeter, sweeter than all tune, And still it cried, 'Apollo! young Apollo! The morning-bright Apollo! young Apollo!

Into the wide stream came of purple hue– 'Twas Bacchus and his crew! The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills From kissing cymbals made a merry din– 200 'Twas Bacchus and his kin!

She went up to his bedroom door and listened to the wildly twanging bed springs as they reached a crescendo as they built toward a finale worthy of Grieg's 'In the Hall of the Mountain King

Oh, New Orleans is such freedom.

What is your opinion of a society that considers Turkey in the Straw to be one of the pillars, as it were, of its culture?

Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice. And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.

Last night as your breathing settled into sleep what I heard was the half-forgotten sound, the velvet rush and hiss, the automatic click as the record player's arm runs out, is brushed away at the record's centre, the pulse of its subsiding oddly comforting. 33 1/3 rpm. The knowledge that when the music ends, there will not be silence.

Music is everybody's business. It's only the publishers who think people own it

I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in me.

Before Elvis there was nothing.

There are only a few notes. Just variations on a theme.

Without Jimmy (James) Dean the Beatles would never have existed.