Quotes About Music

Walt, examining Chris's record collection, said, "You have four different recordings of Carousel." "It's my favorite thing on earth." "Is that because it says that people die but true love lasts forever?" "I … Maybe. I thought I just liked the music." To Tom, behind Walt's back, she mouthed, "How'd he get so smart?

Not simply every number is tuneful, as in, say, The Boys From Syracuse. Not even every number exhilarates character, as in My Fair Lady. Rather: every number makes the experience so vivid that we are reminded that music theatre is our highest—our most complete—art.

Like Oscar Hammerstein, LaChiusa knows that characters express themselves in their own wording as well as their own music.

Legrand shares with his predecessor that rare ability to joke in music just as his librettist jokes in words. The composer has in fact termed Amour "an opéra-bouffe"—Offenbach's own form.

DONKEYMAN: S'pose there's a gel mixed up in it someplace, ain't there? SMITTY: What makes you think so? DONKEYMAN: Always is when a man lets music bother 'im. ["The Moon of the Caribees"]

He is life's liberating force. He is release of limbs and communion through dance. He is laughter, and music in flutes. He is repose from all cares -- he is sleep! When his blood bursts from the grape and flows across tables laid in his honor to fuse with our blood, he gently, gradually, wraps us in shadows of ivy-cool sleep.

And music, your music, it teases at my ear. I turn and it fades away and you're not here! Let hopes pass! Let dreams pass! Let them die! Without you, what are they for? I always feel no more than half-way real 'til I hear you sing once more!

And music, our music, will swell and then unwind like two strands of melody at last entwined. Fulfill us! Complete us! Make us whole! Seal our bond forevermore! Tonight for me, embrace your destiny! Let me hear you sing once more!

Christine: In sleep he sang to me In dreams he came. That voice which calls to me, And speaks my name. And do I dream again? For now I find, The phantom of the opera is here, Inside my mind Phantom: Sing once again with me , Our strange duet. My power over you, Grows strenger yet. And though you turn from me, To glace behind. The phantom of the opera is there, Inside your mind ? ? The Phantom of the Opera ? ?

Oh, by the way, Chuck, I spilled tea on your bongos.

Should you want to listen to Variations, try hearing it from a good-condition original 1978 vinyl pressing. Because the sides are relatively short, the sound quality is amazing.

Richard Hawley's 'Tonight The Streets Are Ours'. He dusted and polished to The KLF; hoovered to Robyn and Bat For Lashes.

Maxinquaye by Tricky,

The taste of the masses isn't for structured music, it's for rhythm. Primitive music, Black music, has had a big influence in determining what's played on the radio, because the radio audience is more primitive in tastes than the concert audiences were.

Beethoven is said, however, to have torn out the title page in protest when Napoleon crowned himself emperor, and retitled it the Eroica, dedicating it 'to the memory of a great man' – with the emphasis on memory.

In the daytime, when the sun is young, My heart aches for thee. I take a flute and blow it. I go out wandering. Taking a long sword, I go away into the night; I go away under the dark sky. I fear nothing...

He didn't sing the words, he inebriated them.

Wagner and Strauss require great and glamorous singers

But then there's a moment like tonight, a profound and transcendent experience, the feeling as if a door has opened, and it's all because of that instrument, that incredible, magical instrument.

Life is everywhere. The earth is throbbing with it, it's like music. The plants, the creatures, the ones we see, the ones we don't see, it's like one, big, pulsating symphony.

You've been listening to the adagio from Beethoven's 7th Symphony. I think Ludwig pretty much summed up death in this one. You know, he had lost just about all his hearing when he wrote it, and I've often wondered if that didn't help him tune into the final silence of the great beyond.

Sergeyich struck a match - and the sound of it also blended into the silence, becoming its property, an integral part of it, a note in its endless music.

Hiro said after a moment. "It hurts." "No, it's fine. It will heal quickly." "Not your hand. The music." Angelica hesitated. Had she understood him? She said, "It does hurt. And it doesn't. Maybe like all beautiful things.

Dandelion! You're asleep in the saddle!' 'I'm not asleep. I'm thinking creatively!