Music is the secret language that effortlessly connects our bodies, our minds, and our souls. I’m addicted to the lyrics— they speak to me in a way only he and I will understand. So, until it’s safe to speak my mind, I’ll speak to him through lyrics. I’m addicted to him. He’s a song I never want to end.
I don't care about wearing branded clothes or flaunting brands. But I do care about the books that I read and the music that I listen to.
At times all you need is a bottle of fine old wine, a mellifluous piece of music playing in the background and a good book to spend the entire night in a magical bliss!
When the heart is beautiful, its light shines though the eyes, vocal tones and actions of its owner.
When your life is stormy, take a refuge to a port: To music or to literature, in short, to art, to any kind of art!
The guitar breathed. It inhaled and exhaled, and music filled the shop as the instrument picked the heartbreak of generations.
A real musician ain’t gonna choose his own guitar like an evil master choosing his slave. The guitar will choose his master and when he does, you’ll know it.
Note to myself - It is time for me to start taking my guitar lessons. One of my neighbor's singing and guitar strumming skills are so cool that I can't stop marveling at the music wafting around here.
Music is energy, emotion, expression, escapism, enlightenment. Music is so much more than just entertainment.
When can you understand that the music you play is very good? It is when people look at you but see no one, no one but the music!
My soul, I’ve found, has puppet strings to make me droop or give me wings.And music is the puppeteerthat turns my ear to hear.
We love music deeply, but why? Put simply: music makes lives, shapes lives, expresses all shades and stages of life - and even saves lives.
To understand fully the importance of music, you must try to imagine a world without music! Such a world would be a world of hopelessness and boredom!
To understand fully the importance of music, you must try to image a world without music! Such a world would be a world of hopelessness and boredom!
Listening to music, reading literature, writing, and extended periods of personal introspection provide four prongs of the incitements available to form a conscious and subconscious designation of self. Other potential incentives that contribute to self-identity include religion and cultural events as well as painting, sculpture, dance, films, newspapers, television, Internet surfing, web sites, and online message boards.
In its own unique and indefinable manner, music indirectly communicates the joys of life along with the pains and terrors overwhelming humanity. The universal language of music quantities the human experience, its range of variation encapsulates the scale of humankind’s exuberance for living as well as expresses our apprehension of suffering and death. Because music articulates the quintessence of life and yokes a myriad of human events into an expressible format, music is a critical act.
An illusionist can make himself disappear; a musician can do the same thing: When he plays a piano, after a while we start seeing only the music, not the man!
MUSIC. It’s in my heart! It’s in my mind! It’s in my soul! Music has a way of taking control of my entire being, and I’m perfectly okay with that! Music is Life! Music is LOVE. Music makes life extra special! Music is a GIFT to the world!
In your most desperate moments where you crawl on the ground like worms, sometimes you suddenly hear the voice of a savior, the voice of the Music which immediately carries you away to the stars!
My feet were keeping in time with the music, but my heart was pounding out a different rhythm altogether.
Music has the ability to express in the upbeat every brilliant aspect of existence, while on the downbeat convey the anguish that a human being experiences when apprehending the fleeting nature of time, and the mysterious torture of living and dying. Music stands alone in its ability to communicate the symbols and phases of life, both being and nonbeing.
He considered for a moment, then started to play a piece that was very familiar to Ruth, although she had no idea what it was. It was lilting and wistful, and she could have sung the melody if she had wished.'Alright?' He raised his eyebrows inquiringly.'Yes. Exactly.'It was effortless and perfect, and he played it through to the end, closing with the softest and most delicate chords, which hung and faded in the quiet hall like the grains of dust raining through the evening light. Ruth was touched. It was all she had wanted. He did not move until there was complete silence again, then he closed the lid without saying anything, and stood up, shoving back the chair. ... 'What was that piece?''A Brahms waltz.''Hasn't it got a name?' she wanted it to remember.'Number fifteen. Opus thirty-nine.'It hadn't sounded like numbers to Ruth.