Quotes
Quotes about Music
Her every tone is music's own,
Like those of morning birds,
And something more than melody
Dwells ever in her words.
In the music of the morns
Blown through the Conchimarian horns,
Down the dark vistas of the reboantic Norns,
To the Genius of Eternity
Crying, "Come to me! Come to me!"
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.
When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.
Keeping time, time, time
In a sort of Runic rhyme
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells.
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might;
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight.
For now the poet can not die,
Nor leave his music as of old,
But round him ere he scarce be cold
Begins the scandal and the cry.
It is the little rift within the lute
That by and by will make the music mute,
And ever widening slowly silence all.
Like perfect music unto nobler words.
The night with sudden odour reeled;
The southern stars a music pealed.
A few can touch the magic string,
And noisy Fame is proud to win them;
Alas for those that never sing,
But die with all their music in them!
There is no truer truth obtainable
By Man than comes of music.
Music tells no truths.
His words were simple words enough
And yet he used them so
That what in other mouths was rough
In his seemed musical and low.
Ah me! the vision has vanished,
The music has died away!
Silence is the speech of love,
The music of the spheres above.
The soul of man is like the rolling world,
One half in day, the other dipt in night;
The one has music and the flying cloud,
The other, silence and the wakeful stars.
Silence more musical than any song.
We may live without poetry, music and art;
We may live without conscience and live without heart;
We may live without friends; we may live without books;
But civilized man can not live without cooks.
He may live without books,--what is knowledge but grieving?
He may live without hope--what is hope but deceiving?
He may live without love,--what is passion but pining?
But where is the man that can live without dining?
Though all the bards of earth were dead,
And all their music passed away,
What Nature wishes should be said
She'll find the rightful voice to say.
We are the music-makers,
We are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;--
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
We are the movers and shakers
Of the world forever it seems.
Breathe slumbrous music round me, sweet and slow,
To honied phrases set!
Into the land of dreams I long to go.
Bid me forget!
There was music all about us, we were growing quite forgetful
We were only singing seamen from the dirt of Londontown.
What fairy-like music steals over the sea,
Entrancing our senses with charmed melody?
Architecture is frozen music.
