Quotes About Music

You are an educated man. You know there are no such things as demons." Bast smiled a terrible smile. "There is only my kind." Bast leaned closer still, Chronicler smelled flowers on his breath. "You are not wise enough to fear me as I should be feared. You do not know the first note of the music that moves me.

Then I felt something inside me break and music began to pour out into the quiet. My fingers danced; intricate and quick they spun something gossamer and tremulous into the circle of light our fire had made. The music moved like a spiderweb stirred by a gentle breath, it changed like a leaf twisting as it falls to the ground, and it felt like three years Waterside in Tarbean, with a hollowness inside you and hands that ached from the bitter cold.

You," I said, "are sweet music in a distant room.

Each woman is like an instrument, waiting to be learned, loved, and finely played, to have at last her own true music made.

I'll string a fiddle with your guts and make you play it while I dance.

Then I played the song that hides in the center of me. That wordless music that moves through the secret places in my heart. I played it carefully, strumming it slow and low into the dark stillness of the night. I would like to say it is a happy song, that it is sweet and bright, but it is not.

Words cannot always do the work we need them to. Music is there for when words fail us.

Mis padres bailaron juntos; mi madre con la cabeza apoyada en el pecho de mi padre. Ambos tenían los ojos cerrados y parecían perfectamente satisfechos. Si encuentras a una persona así, alguien a quien puedas abrazar y con la que puedas cerrar los ojos a todo lo demás, puedes considerarte muy afortunado. Aunque solo dure un minuto, o un día. Después de tantos años, esa imagen de mis padres meciéndose suavemente al son de la música es, para mí, la imagen del amor.

My father referred to it as "the finest song ever written for fifteen fingers." He made me play it when I was getting too full of myself and felt I needed humbling. Suffice to say I practice it with fair regularity, sometimes more than once a day.

Each woman is like an instrument, waiting to be learned, loved, and finely played, to have at last her own true music made. Some might take offense at this way of seeing things, not understanding how a trouper views his music. They might think I degrade women. They might consider me callous, or boorish, or crude. But those people do not understand love, or music, or me.

Music explains itself...It is the road and it is the map that shows the road. It is both together.

A poet is a musician that can't sing. Words have to find a man's mind before they can touch his heart, and some men's minds are woeful small targets. Music touches their hearts directly no matter how small or stubborn the mind of the man who listens.

She laughed so sweet and loud and long it sounded like a bell, a harp, a song.

Once, I sang colors to a blind man. Seven hours I played, but at the end he said he saw them, green and red and gold. That, I think, was easier than this. Trying to make you understand her with nothing more than words. You have never seen her, never heard her voice. You cannot know.

He had a bright, reckless tenor that was always wandering off, looking for notes in the wrong places.

La música es una amante orgullosa y temperamental. Si le dedicas el tiempo y la atención que se merece, es toda tuya. Pero si la desairas, llegará un día en que la llamarás y ella no contestará.

Music is a proud, temperamental mistress. Give her the time and attention she deserves, and she is yours. Slight her and there will come a day when you call and she will not answer.

I...flipped open the lid, thinking my lute might enjoy the feel of a little sun on its strings. If you aren't a musician, I don't expect you to understand.

Poetry is a song without music. A song without music is like a body without a soul.

No me acuerdo del último verso. ¡Qué poco me gusta la poesía! ¿Cómo puede uno recordar las palabras sin música?

La música existe para cuando nos fallan las palabras. (Kvothe)

Needless to say, playing these things hurt, but it was a hurt like tender fingers on lute strings. I bled a bit and hoped that I would callous soon.

This is why we have music, after all. Words cannot always do the work we need them to. Music is there for when words fail us. Finally

Luego toqué la canción que se esconde en el centro de mí. Esa música sin letra que recorre los rincones secretos de mi corazón. La toqué con cuidado, desgranando las notas lenta y suvamente en el oscuro silencio nocturno. Me gustaría poder decir que es una canción alegre, que es dulce y animada, pero no lo es.