John D. Rockefeller III, president, New York Lincoln Center for the performing arts: "The most remarkable statistic of all; Americans now spend more money every year to attend concerts than to watch professional baseball. The American artistic scene has come alive."
"Gee, Dad," asked the teenager, "did you ever hear anything like this rock 'n' roll?"
"Just once," replied the long-suffering father, "when a truck of live ducks hit a wagon loaded with empty milk cans."—T. O. White, Champaign-Urbana News Gazette
Good music? A bit too strait-laced;
We may use it later—no haste.
Our tunes may be trite,
But for kids that's all right;
They've not yet acquired a true taste!—Dam Hayes, University of Illinois, Daily Illinois
Is there any music like that of a car starting on a cold morning?—Carman Fish, National Safety News
Music, once admitted to the soul, becomes a sort of spirit, and never dies. It wanders perturbedly through the halls and galleries of the memory, and is often heard again, distinct and living, as when it first displaced the wavelets of the air.—Edward George Bulwer-Lytton
The music teacher was proudly presenting her pupils in a recital. After the extended musical program, ice cream, cake, and fruit were served. One of the young musicians had brought her little brother along as a guest.
As the youngster was taking his departure, the teacher asked, "Well, Jimmie, did you enjoy the recital?"
"I sure did," Jimmie replied, "that is, all but the music."
God is its author, and not man; he laid
The key-note of all harmonies; he planned
All perfect combinations, and he made
Us so that we could hear and understand.—J. G. Brainard
Music is the harmonious voice of creation; an echo of the invisible world; one note of the divine concord which the entire universe is destined one day to sound.—Mazzini
The musical young woman who dropped her peekaboo waist in the piano player and turned out a Beethoven sonata, has her equal in the lady who stood in front of a five-bar fence and sang all the dots on her veil.
A thief broke into a Madison avenue mansion early the other morning and found himself in the music-room. Hearing footsteps approaching, he took refuge behind a screen.
From eight to nine o'clock the eldest daughter had a singing lesson.
From nine to ten o'clock the second daughter took a piano lesson.
From ten to eleven o'clock the eldest son had a violin lesson.
From eleven to twelve o'clock the other son had a lesson on the flute.
At twelve-fifteen all the brothers and sisters assembled and studied an ear-splitting piece for voice, piano, violin and flute.
The thief staggered out from behind the screen at twelve-forty-five, and falling at their feet, cried:
"For Heaven's sake, have me arrested!"
A lady told Swinburne that she would render on the piano a very ancient Florentine retornello which had just been discovered. She then played "Three blind mice" and Swinburne was enchanted. He found that it reflected to perfection the cruel beauty of the Medicis—which, perhaps, it does.—Edmund Gosse.
The accomplished and obliging pianist had rendered several selections, when one of the admiring group of listeners in the hotel parlor suggested Mozart's Twelfth Mass. Several people echoed the request, but one lady was particularly desirous of hearing the piece, explaining that her husband had belonged to that very regiment.
Dinner was a little late. A guest asked the hostess to play something. Seating herself at the piano, the good woman executed a Chopin nocturne with precision. She finished, and there was still an interval of waiting to be bridged. In the grim silence she turned to an old gentleman on her right and said:
"Would you like a sonata before going in to dinner?"
He gave a start of surprise and pleasure as he responded briskly:
"Why, yes, thanks! I had a couple on my way here, but I could stand another."
Music is the universal language of mankind.—Longfellow.
I even think that, sentimentally, I am disposed to harmony. But organically I am incapable of a tune.—Charles Lamb.
There's music in the sighing of a reed;
There's music in the gushing of a rill;
There's music in all things, if men had ears:
Their earth is but an echo of the spheres.—Byron.
Artemas Ward said: "When I am sad, I sing, and then others are sad with me."
The optimistic pessimist explained why he always dined in restaurants where music was provided.
"Because it works two ways: sometimes the music helps to make me forget the food, and sometimes the food helps to make me forget the music."