Music Quotes

The history of music is mortal, but the idiocy of the guitar is eternal.

Music makes an otherwise ordinary activity quite enriching.

...It is a well known fact that most artists produce their best work early in their career. They may refine what they do but you usually get the measure of what they are about on their first outing.

The open door is never behind you; the open door is always before you. Quit looking at your past life and mistakes. Look unto Jesus who is the Author and Perfector of our faith. Your open door is not in the opportunity you missed ten years ago, it is not in some stuffs behind you that you can't get back. You can't gain your access by giving attention to your past life.Your past days are behind you and what God has for you is in front of you. Just pay attention.

Searching for nothingWondering if I’ll changeI’m trying everythingBut everything still stays the sameI thought if I showed you I could flyWouldn’t need anyone by my sideI'm running backwardsWith broken wings I know I’ll die

I Remember Years Ago, Someone Told Me I Should Take Caution When it Comes to Love, I DidSo Tell Them All I Know NowShout it From the RooftopsWrite it On the Sky LineAll We Had Is Gone NowTell Them I Was Happyand My Heart is BrokenAll My Scars Are OpenTell Them What I Hoped Would BeImpossible

Maybe the internet raised us, or maybe people are jerks.

If knowledge is lacking, your destruction is inevitable. Hosea 4:6

I was totally clueless about social interaction, and completely scared of girls. All I knew was that music was going to make girls fall in love with me.

I was born to make mistakes, not to be perfect.

The Devil has all the best tunes? My arse! Metalville just got a new sheriff.

I don't mind if you forget me.Having learned my lesson,I never left an impression on anyone.

It's all about Perfection or the tolerance of Imperfection

The Music blows wherever Music pleases, you hear it’s sound, but you cannot tell where the Music comes from or where the Music is going.

Cause I'll know my weakness, know my voice. And I'll believe in grace and choice. And I know perhaps my heart is farce, But I'll be born without a mask.

Music eats its young and gives birth to a new hybrid creature.

Music- what a powerful instrument, what a mighty weapon!

Butterflies, butterfliesThey were meant to flyYou and i, you and iWe were colours in the sky

The chef who cooks without a song on his lips cannot hope to infuse the right carefree improvisatory note into his art.

He does not look at the dancers, does not acknowledge her, sitting and staring. He is steeped in a private aural world. He drew out longer notes than her papa ever had; he was more forceful with the bow; she hadn't known the violin contained such wildness. She was reminded of the tarantella, which skipped along its notes and pulled you upward; out of yourself, come and play! But these pieces, these tangos, didn't only lift; they also plunged you downward, deep inside yourself, to the unexamined corners of your heart. Come, they whispered, come and look, see what's here and dance with it, this is music too.

He was getting undressed and it snapped something inside of him that had been drawing taut, ready to break for months.“I'm hungry, Bruno,” he said, in a soft voice, as he removed the shirt from his broad shoulders, revealing a perfect sight of smooth dark skin. “I can't wait for dinner,” he continued, with a smile.When he put his hands to the fastening of his trousers, Bruno let out a sigh and put the take out menus on the counter. He couldn't look at him, because he knew Lyon was trying to seduce him on purpose. He didn't want to talk or hear him out or spend time with him that didn't end with an orgasm.“I can't do this anymore,” Bruno confessed, quietly.

I believe that life is all about perception and timing. That good things come to those who act and that life’s about more than collecting a paycheck. I believe that the only person you’re destined to become is the one that you decide to be. That if you try hard enough you can convince yourself of anything. That having patience doesn’t make you a hero nor does it make you a doormat. I believe that not showing love proves you’re weak and belittling others doesn’t make you strong. That you are never as far away from people as the miles may suggest. That life’s too short to read awful books, listen to terrible music, or be around uninspiring people. I believe that where you start has little impact on where you finish. That sometimes the best thing you can do is walk away. That you can never be overdressed or overeducated. I believe that the cure for anything is salt water; sweat, tears, or the sea. That you should never let your memories be greater than your dreams. And that you should always choose adventure.

The music as always had a dark sweet luster, but it was more than ever like an endless beginning-a theme ever building to a climax which would never come.

Music is a form that tends to give shape to rules, social mores, social attitudes, feelings—it does this in a very beautiful, fluid way. To me the issue of form and formlessness is most strong in the theme of mortality versus a human wish for immortality of a sort. Take, for example, the definition of beauty in fashion. Remember what Alison says at the beginning? She says when she was young she didn’t know what beautiful was. She looked at this woman who everyone was saying was beautiful and she didn’t even know what they were talking about. I experienced that when I was a child. If I loved someone I thought they were really beautiful. And then eventually, I began to get it, the social concept of beauty. Not that I think beautiful is completely imaginary, but beauty is so wide ranging and fluid. Yet there’s a need to say: “This is what it is, and it’s not changing; we’re taking a picture of it to hold it still.” It’s like an impulse to put up a building meant to last forever. An urge to grab and hold something in place when nothing human can be grabbed and held in place. We come into these physical bodies . . . whatever we are takes this shape that is so particular and distinct—eyes, nose, mouth—and then it gradually begins to disintegrate. Eventually it’s going to dissolve completely. It’s a huge problem for people; we can understand it, but it breaks our hearts. And so we’re constantly trying to pin something down or leave a trace that will last forever. “And this is the only immortality you and I may share, my Lolita . . .” What other immortality will anyone share?

It's always been the love of the music for me, the rawness of the notes vibrating through my body, the honesty of the sound I create that blocks out all the other shit. If you don't let all that, the music, its impact, become a part of you, then it doesn't matter how good you are, how successful. I don't care who you are, if you don't surrender to the power of the music, you are just playing a role.

Always wear cute pyjamas to bed, you'll never know who u will meet in your dreams.

The music at a wedding procession always reminds me of the music of soldiers going into battle.

This empty kitchen's whereI'd while away the hoursJust next to my old chairYou'd usually have some flowersThe shelves of booksEven the picture hooksEverything is goneBut my heart is hanging onIf this old neighborhoodSurvived us both alrightDon't know that it withstoodAll the things that took our lightYou on the stairI can see you thereEverything is goneBut my heart is hanging onOnce there was a little girlUsed to wonder what she would beWent out into the big wide worldNow she's just a memoryThere used to be a little school hereWhere I learned to write my nameBut time has been a little cruel hereTime has no shameIt's just a place whereWe used to liveIt's just a place whereWe used to liveNow in another townYou lead another lifeAnd now upstairs and downYou're someone else's wifeHere in the dustThere's not a trace of usEverything is goneBut my heart is hanging onIt's just a place whereWe used to liveIt's just a place whereWe used to live.

Love is the sweetest melody of the soul and anything can be catalyst for that.

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.

And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me. We both knew it, right away. And as the years went on, things got more difficult – we were faced with more challenges. I begged him to stay. Try to remember what we had at the beginning.He was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew it. When he walked in every woman’s head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn’t contain himself. I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him. And in that way, I understood him and I loved him.I loved him, I loved him, I loved him.And I still love him. I love him.

I Taught myself how to Write lyrics ,compose ,sing ,arrange music ,mix and mastering my music and producing it and selling it worldwide , Promoting it Too and making my music videos as well . All because they wanted to abuse me when I first started.

..I find it incredible impossible not to cry when I hear Stevie Nicks's "Landslide," especially the lyric: "I've been afraid of changing, because I've built my life around you." I think a good test to see if a human is actually a robot/android/cylon is to have them listen to this song lyric and study their reaction. If they don't cry, you should stab them through the heart. You will find a fusebox.

Look deeply into life, and study it as diligently as the other arts and sciences.

Music is the soundtrack to every good and bad time we will ever have.

Everybody says you have to decide between the head and the heart, but that’s just so much bullshit. Your heart and your head don’t know a damn thing between them when it comes to other people. Your head can know facts about them, sure—like a criminal record or a Purple Heart—but that’s about it. And your heart only knows how it feels and what it wants, not what the other person is feeling . . .

Music is the one incorporeal entrance into the higher world of knowledge which comprehends mankind but which mankind cannot comprehend.

You know that I immerse myself in music, so to speak— that I think about it all day long— that I like experimenting— studying— reflecting.

Mathematics, as much as music or any other art, is one of the means by which we rise to a complete self-consciousness. The significance of mathematics resides precisely in the fact that it is an art; by informing us of the nature of our own minds it informs us of much that depends on our minds.

There's a hard life for every silver spoon.There's a touch of gray for every shade of blue.That's the way I see life.If there was nothing wrong...Then there'd be nothing right.

There are, of course, inherent tendencies to repetition in music itself. Our poetry, our ballads, our songs are full of repetition; nursery rhymes and the little chants and songs we use to teach young children have choruses and refrains. We are attracted to repetition, even as adults; we want the stimulus and the reward again and again, and in music we get it. Perhaps, therefore, we should not be surprised, should not complain if the balance sometimes shifts too far and our musical sensitivity becomes a vulnerability.

The mosh pit will reveal all the answers. The mosh pit never lies.-Norah, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist

We hate it when our friends become successful.

When there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.

First you learn the instrument, then you learn the music, then you forget all that s**t and just play.

I long for the day when I hear the musicwithout any song.

So I'll be bold, as well as strong, and use my head alongside my heart.

You might say “no, you will never do that, that’s not you, not who I know, not who I thought you were”, and I will say "watch me".

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.

The only thing that ever came close to tugging my heart strings is music. I know this because that is the only time I've felt them move.

That was how we wanted to play, majestic and chaotic.

Brahms' Variations are better than mine, but mine were written before his.

As in all sweetest music, a tinge of sadness was in every note. Nor do we know how much of the pleasures even of life we owe to the intermingled sorrows. Joy cannot unfold the deepest truths, although deepest truth must be deepest joy.

Mozart is the human incarnation of the divine force of creation.

Philosophy is the song of love with the music of morals.

If you are landing it doesn't really matter who is sitting beside you but while you are taking off, it is very important you know who is around you. Eagles don't flock with pigeons.

If we are in a general way permitted to regard human activity in the realm of the beautiful as a liberation of the soul, as a release from constraint and restriction, in short to consider that art does actually alleviate the most overpowering and tragic catastrophes by means of the creations it offers to our contemplation and enjoyment, it is the art of music which conducts us to the final summit of that ascent to freedom.

Music is a language - and language, at its finest, should be music.

And when one song stops playing write the one that will save your life.

Mac Rebennack, better known as Dr. John, once told me that when a brass band plays at a small club back up in one of the neighborhoods, it's as if the audience--dancing, singing to the refrains, laughing--is part of the band. They are two parts of the same thing. The dancers interpret, or it might be better to say literally embody, the sounds of the band, answering the instruments. Since everyone is listening to different parts of the music--she to the trumpet melody, he to the bass drum, she to the trombone--the audience is a working model in three dimensions of the music, a synesthesic transformation of materials. And of course the band is also watching the dancers, and getting ideas from the dancers' gestures. The relationship between band and audience is in that sense like the relationship between two lovers making love, where cause and effect becomes very hard to see, even impossible to call by its right name; one is literally getting down, as in particle physics, to some root stratum where one is freed from the lockstop of time itself, where time might even run backward, or sideways, and something eternal and transcendent is accessed.