Dancing is to music what a beloved wife is to her husband. Both of them are so in love, you can’t separate them.

To live is to be musical, starting with the blood dancing in your veins. Everything living has a rhythm. Do you feel your music?

How many victims must that be? Slaughtered in vain across the land,And how many strugles must that be?Before we choose to live the profits planEverybody sing- Every day create your History,Every path you take you’re leaving your legacyEvery soldier dies in his gloryEvery legend tells of conquest and liberty.

People ask me how I make music. I tell them I just step into it. It’s like stepping into a river and joining the flow. Every moment in the river has its song.

Hard to say what’s right when all I wanna do is wrong.

Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings.

Each song is a child I nourish and give my love to. But even if you have never written a song, your life is a song. How can it not be?

reality sucks, that’s probably why we dream. Why our bodies need sleep. So we can escape. Escape this earth, at least just for a little while. Everynight, we get to go away. Sleep is the only time I feel safe. The only time I can leave this place. This reality that feels like needles sticking...

Every time a new record started, people exhaled with pleasure, or their bodies moved automatically. I really started getting high off of the euphoric exclamations. Every record I put on was like a baptism.

The piano ain’t got no wrong notes.

Modern man is full of platitudes about living life to its fullest, with catchy keychain phrases and little plaques for kitchen walls. But if you’ve never retreated to the solitude of a dark room and listened to Beethoven’s Ninth from start to finish, you know nothing. For music is a transcendental exploration of human emotion...

Has the industry done to music what McDonald’s has done to eating?

Tell me what you listen to, and I’ll tell you who you are.

Look, dude, you’ve sampled your life, mixed those sounds with a funk precedent, and established a sixteen-bar system of government for the entire rhythm nation. Set the Dj up as the executive, the legislative, and judicial branches. I mean, after listening to your beat, anything I’ve heard on the pop radio in the last five...

Some songs are never just ordinary songs, they become the memories you collect in your life.

Music, even in situations of the greatest horror, should never be painful to the ear but should flatter and charm it, and thereby always remain music.

Well, I’m a painter, I was trained as a painter…I seem to have spent a little less time painting than I might’ve done…But it didn’t transcend the feeling of playing at UFO and those sort of places with the lights and that, the fact that the group was getting bigger and bigger.

Oh, the truth I must tellIs I’m lonely as hellStill looking for myself

Melody is the essence of music. I compare a good melodist to a fine racer, and counterpointists to hack post-horses; therefore be advised, let well alone and remember the old Italian proverb: Chi sa più, meno sa—Who knows most, knows least.

You sit there in your heartache Waiting on some beautiful boy to To save you from your old ways You play forgiveness Watch him now, here he comesHe doesnt look a thing like Jesus But he talks like a gentleman Like you imagined when you were youngCan we climb this mountain? I dont know Higher...

The sky is full of dreams, but you don’t know how to fly.

I try to live without you,everytime I do I feel dead.

If, while at the piano, you attempt to form little melodies, that is very well; but if they come into your mind of themselves, when you are not practising, you may be still more pleased; for the internal organ of music is then roused in you. The fingers must do what the head desires; not...

Play always as if in the presence of a master.

Think it a vile habit to alter works of good composers, to omit parts of them, or to insert new-fashioned ornaments. This is the greatest insult you can offer to Art.

People haven’t always been there for me but music always has.

Don’t believe everything you hear: Real eyes, Realize, Real lies

You can’t speak Music with notes alone, but you can speak Music without notes at all!

I’ll probably paint on this piano after I compose, for that will inspire me to make more awesome works.

Usually, the murmur that rises up from Paris by day is the city talking; in the night it is the city breathing; but here it is the city singing. Listen, then, to this chorus of bell-towers – diffuse over the whole the murmur of half a million people – the eternal lament of the river...

You have to feel the mix and you have to feel the work and the sweet somehow which somebody is investing in that moment in the way that you can really feel the passion.

I love a boy with sun-kissed hair,With ocean storms in his bright blue eyes,I love a boy who drinks my tears when I cry.

Although it was only a single instrument, each note had the peculiar echoed quality of a thousand harmonics voiced together. There was a whisper behind the strongest note and a shout beneath the softest, and they sang of far off places in long forgotten times. There were no words, but the images of ancient pride,...

I’m a super hero, too, underneath my sweater.

My kids are starting to notice I’m a little different from the other dads. “Why don’t you have a straight job like everyone else?” they asked me the other day. I told them this story: In the forest, there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. Every day, the straight tree would say to...

One of Renee’s friends asked her, “Does your boyfriend wear glasses?” She said, “No, he wears a Walkman.

The most exciting rhythms seem unexpected and complex, the most beautiful melodies simple and inevitable.

The danger of restorative nostalgia lies in its belief that the mutilated ‘wholeness’ of the body politic can be repaired. But the reflective nostalgic understands deep down that loss is irrecoverable: Time wounds all wholes. To exist in Time is to suffer through an endless exile, a successive severing from those precious few moments of...

The tuba is certainly the most intestinal of instruments, the very lower bowel of music.

The real dance is a spontaneous body movement that in harmony with the beats of the music in your heart.

While silently brooding, I am drawn to the start of a sweet melody that travels to my ear from afar. I smile, reminded that my heart can dance when my feet can’t.

Dave walked closer to me, his dark eyes combing my every move. “Do you always hold your guitar like that?”I dropped my pick. “Do you always shop at Hot Topic?

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.

I don’t know notes or octaves or the difference between sharp and flat, but I know music makes everything more.

The music brought us what it seemed / We had long desired, but in a form / so rarefied there was no emptiness of sensation

Orpheus never liked words. He had his music. He would get a funny look on his face and I would say what are you thinking about and he would always be thinking about music.

Pochi uccelli Stephen preferiva ai succiacapre, ma non era stato il loro canto a farlo scendere dal letto. Rimase fermo, appoggiato alla ringhiera, e poco dopo Jack Aubrey, in un padiglione presso il campo di bocce, ricominciò a suonare con grande dolcezza nel buio, improvvisando solo per sé, fantasticando sul suo violino con una maestria...

All that you touch All that you see All that you taste All you feel. All that you love All that you hate All you distrust All you save. All that you give All that you deal All that you buy, beg, borrow or steal. All you create All you destroy All that you do...

Like how stars might sound. Or moons But not mountains. Too floaty for mountains. It’s a sound like one planet singing to another, high stretched and full of different voices starting at different notes and sloping down to other different notes but all weaving together in a rope of sound that’s sad but not sad...

All language is an aspiration to music.