Quotes About Performance

Six Characters in Search of an Author.

Para começar, tocava saxofone soprano, um instrumento raro no jazz ainda hoje. (Por favor, se você lembrou do Kenny G, pare de ler imediatamente.)

Cuanto mejor era ser espectador de la gran farsa de la vida humana que desempeñar en ella un papel de actor, aunque fuera secundario! ¡Cuánto mejor ser libre que esclavo de un gran empeño que, como todos los grandes empeños, tarde o temprano acabaría por mostrar su condición ilusoria y estéril!

Professional wrestling's most mysterious hold is on its audience.

Especially with a comedy, you've got the clear cut goal of trying to make a scene funny. It's not like drama where you're trying to achieve some kind of emotion or trying to further the story along. You're trying to figure out what's the funniest way to do something.

Whatever role you play, play it to the hilt.

Professional sports is a business.

The trouble with multitasking. In study after study, researchers have shown that performing multiple tasks at once makes the brain less efficient. Basically, the brain doesn't become proficient at doing multiple tasks, it simply becomes faster at skipping back and forth between them and blocking other information out.

After Jimena left, Serena sat in a chair and set her cello on the end pin between her knees. She loved the way she had to hug the cello when she played. She dreamed of meeting her idols some day in a master class or onstage, someone like Yo-Yo Ma or Han-Na Chang. She picked up her bow and began to play. The music flowed around her, sad and filled with longing.

Then he saw Catty. He hadn't recognized her at first. She had painted her face white for the day and drawn black caverns around her eyes. Squares over her lips made skeleton teeth. Children circled her, watching her paint a little girl's face.

How many performance artists does it take to screw in a lightbulb? I don't know. I left early.

I ain't a street busker, I'm a microphone hustler, manipulating lyrics I'm a lyrical shuffler.

Hope, belief, and despair are not simply moods. They change our physical performance. They alter how quickly we react, how hard we fight, how quick we are to give up. - Symphony for the City of the Dead: Dmitri Shostakovich and the Siege of Leningrad

Halfway through the performance, she saw that one of the Musketeers had died of hunger. He lay on the floor with a shattered cup in his hand. The show, quite incredibly, went on.

As his neighbor Tatyana Litvinova described it, "Nobody who saw him taking his bows on the platform after his music had been performed could forget his crooked figure, his grimace of misery and the fingers that never stopped drumming on his cheek. It was torture just to watch him! He minced his steps and bowed like a circus pony. There was something robot-like in his movements." He didn't need to be nervous.

He even wrote a ballet about soccer, in which crooked capitalist soccer players face off against clean-living Soviets who perform startling slowmotion gymnastics.

When they put you on stage / you looked around and saw I was the prize waiting to be awarded. / At last you took a step into the rest of your life / and left me on stage bawling like a child.

There was a chance for me to write one song for the section where Elvis sat in his black leather outfit and sang the old hits. At eight oclock the next morning I had written Memories.

Reading a piece of poetry with no beat in front of 20 people is way more challenging than rocking for 10 000 people.

Professional means you have to do things according to the book. They call you Professional to limit your ability. Don't strive to be professional, but to be the best you can be

Mussolini was not an original thinker, but he was a gifted actor who could play a role.

We can't take any credit for our talents. It's how we use them that counts.

There was Glenn Gould hunched over the piano, wearing a dark suit, hearing patterns far beyond the range of what most of us are given to perceive,

When he talked, he was lawyer and bard and crossroads charlatan at once, arguing his case, entertaining, pulling back the veil to show you the secrets of the world. It was not just his words, though they were clever enough. It was everything together: his face, his gestures, the sliding tones of his voice. I would say it was like a spell he cast, but there was no spell I knew that could equal it. The gift was his alone.