When we would prepare the mind by a forcible appeal, an opening quotation is a symphony preluding on the chords those tones we are about to harmonize.
quote by Benjamin Disraeli
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Related quotes
Every book is a quotation; and every house is a quotation out of all forests, and mines, and stone quarries; and every man is a quotation from all his ancestors.
quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soon Rejoicing Comes
Darkside melodies sung,
Are coming to an end...
For some who sang,
In tones
Not in tune!
And soon rejoicing comes,
In cheers
To harmonize dissentions!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I don't think I think when I play. I have a photographic memory for chords, and when I'm playing, the right chords appear in my mind like photographs long before I get to them.
quote by Earl Hines
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Smasher - Devourer
Fear me not but fear my hell
Man made me so I could kill
Praise me in the name of war
I destroy both rich and poor
I am the way, prepare for salvation
I am the way, prepare for salvation
Strength in time of suffering
Man alone is a weakling
Ascension is what you ask
I will be the fall of man
I am the way, prepare for salvation
I am the way, prepare for salvation
Salvation...
Those of you who dare to stray
I will tear your mind away
Those of you who dare to stray
I will take your life away
Salvation...
I am the way, prepare for salvation
I am the way, prepare for salvation
Salvation...
song performed by by Fear Factory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Buddhist Lesson # 2
enlightment,
the act of opening,
like a rosebud,
like a mother,
opening the door...
like a child
opening a present,
like a woman
opening to a man....
opening...
all the hidden chambers,
every door to every
secret kingdom of the soul.....
opening the box that holds
your secret thoughts, desires....
opening...
the door of the cage,
letting the winged breath fly....
opening....
your heart to itself,
and to all hearts beating....
opening....
the vault of conceptions,
the entrance to the tomb
of past lives and memories....
opening...
your hands to the world
as if it were your neighbor,
and you, it's home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Symphony Of Music
music has away of projecting
your every-emotion that you
have to give, the art of music
lives inside every-one that wants
to follow it.
the sorrow that it has
gives a symphony of words,
to express the inner-emotions
that music has to expose to
us as we listen to it.
the symphony of music
impacts us as we listen
and compassionately take
it to heart, as we start
becoming involved with
the symphony of music that
is being produced to us.
some-how the art of
music takes us by the
hand and moves us in so
many different ways that we
can't even explain to any-one
that is around us.
we take the symphony of
music as it moves through
us, as we listen with an open
heart and an open mind, and find
the boundaries that combines our
very emotions, thoughts, and feelings,
with the symphony of music that reveals
to us a whole new world of music to
us and being the people of the world.
but what people don't
understand and realise is
that the symphony of music,
goes deeper than what they
had imagined it to go, and
some-how not to show this
bittersweet side of me and
what the symphony of music
does to me and my feelings.
and to have it some-how
over-flowing inside my
veins is some-thing that
i will never-ever talk about
with any-one who knows and
loves me.
poem by Erie Diane
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The New Symphony Sid
Symphony sid is grooving
Man this whole house is moving
Symphony sid is grooving
Symphony sid
Symphony sid is swinging
That radio is ringing
Symphony sid is swinging
Symphony sid
Bing-bang bing-bang bing-bang ...
Bing-bing-bing-bang ...
Symphony sid is jumping
Man this whole house is romping
Symphony sid is jumping
Symphony sid
Tune in and listen
Check out what youre missin
Youre finally close to eighty
On the dot
Some say hes the greatest
One thing is assured
When youre the latest
Youre gonna be hoppin and boppin round the future
All your friends will be knockin on your door
When sidney plays his swingin music, catch it you should take up the
Season you feel the temperature risin
Yeah man the radio is hot, youd never want to stop
Spinning like a little red top, all over town
Now, sisters and brothers, fathers and mothers dig in
Watch this, put em down
Bing-bang bing-bang bing-bang ...
Bing-bing-bing-bang ...
Symphony sid is jumping
Man this whole house is romping
Symphony sid is jumping
Symphony sid
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Listening
'T is you that are the music, not your song.
The song is but a door which, opening wide,
Lets forth the pent-up melody inside,
Your spirit's harmony, which clear and strong
Sings but of you. Throughout your whole life long
Your songs, your thoughts, your doings, each divide
This perfect beauty; waves within a tide,
Or single notes amid a glorious throng.
The song of earth has many different chords;
Ocean has many moods and many tones
Yet always ocean. In the damp Spring woods
The painted trillium smiles, while crisp pine cones
Autumn alone can ripen. So is this
One music with a thousand cadences.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Loves Destiny
I long to quiesce
in the warmth of your arms.
To swim in the waves
of your sensual charms.
Your voice running through my mind
like a dream,
Lips cool and gentle
as a mountain stream
I rest in the calm
Of your beautiful soul
As we walk arm in arm
Through this life we will stroll
And there by your side
I am finally whole
I stand in such awe
Of a mind sweet and clear
Knowing your thoughts
Are ever so near
The love in your heart
It soothes all my fear
I find my own strength
Having you here
I cannot think too long
on the miracles that brought us here.
The impossibility of such a meeting,
the suddenness of such a deep and abiding love.
We resonate and harmonize
Like a perfect symphony.
My soul it finds true rest in thee
In the love that is our destiny
poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
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A War Song to Englishmen
Prepare, prepare the iron helm of war,
Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb;
Th' Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,
And casts them out upon the darken'd earth!
Prepare, prepare!
Prepare your hearts for Death's cold hand! prepare
Your souls for flight, your bodies for the earth;
Prepare your arms for glorious victory;
Prepare your eyes to meet a holy God!
Prepare, prepare!
Whose fatal scroll is that? Methinks 'tis mine!
Why sinks my heart, why faltereth my tongue?
Had I three lives, I'd die in such a cause,
And rise, with ghosts, over the well-fought field.
Prepare, prepare!
The arrows of Almighty God are drawn!
Angels of Death stand in the louring heavens!
Thousands of souls must seek the realms of light,
And walk together on the clouds of heaven!
Prepare, prepare!
Soldiers, prepare! Our cause is Heaven's cause;
Soldiers, prepare! Be worthy of our cause:
Prepare to meet our fathers in the sky:
Prepare, O troops, that are to fall to-day!
Prepare, prepare!
Alfred shall smile, and make his harp rejoice;
The Norman William, and the learnèd Clerk,
And Lion Heart, and black-brow'd Edward, with
His loyal queen, shall rise, and welcome us!
Prepare, prepare!
poem by William Blake
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When I was on the air a lot my throat and vocal chords got tired. If you don't vary your tones you can't get pretty tired of your own voice.
Gusts Of Wind
Gusts of wind blowing hard
all across the land
across the shores and deserts,
gusts blowing sand.
Sometimes starting as breezes
then building in intensity,
swirling and creating noises
that whistle a symphony.
Catching the sounds of wind chimes
clanging loud and clear,
ringing in many different tones,
tones that you can hear.
These gusts of wind intrigue me.
I wonder how they start?
Sometimes they come so quickly
and then when they depart
I wonder where they've traveled
and have they all died down?
There's stillness in the air now.
No gusts of wind are around.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Merely having an open mind is nothing. The object of opening the mind, as of opening the mouth, is to shut it again on something solid.
quote by G.K. Chesterton
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In the theater, while you recognized that you were looking at a house, it was a house in quotation marks. On screen, the quotation marks tend to be blotted out by the camera.
quote by Arthur Miller
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Sex Appeal
(r palmer)
Of all the girls in all the world
You got my number
Out the blue you created this obsessive desire
You steal my thunder
I cant resist your sex appeal
Youre kisses make me dizzy
The things you do you know they drive me out of my mind
I cant resist your sex appeal
You take it to the limit
Imagination running till
Its out of sight
You haunt my dreams
You make me fantasise
All of your moves, Ive got them memorised
Under your spell youve got me hypnotised
My body aches to make you satisfied
I cant resist your sex appeal
I lose my inhibitions
The way you move you make me feel
Completely wild
I cant resist your sex appeal
I knw you will deliver
You kiss my wildest dreams
Then take me out
When we make make love
Our bodies synchronise
We find the grooves and then we improvise
We lose ourselves within each others eyes
I long for you to share my appetites
I cant resist your sex appeal
Youre kisses make me dizzy
Imagination running till its out of sight
You take me right out of this world
Closer to heaven
How did you know how to capture all my secret desires
Now and forever
I cant believe
The way you tantalise
I love the way you take me by surprise
You turn me on
Its you I idolise
My body years to keep ypu satisfied
I cant resist your sex appeal
I lose my inhibitions
The way you move you make me feel
Completely wild
I cant resist your sex appeal
I know you will deliver
You kiss my wildest dreams then take me out
I cant resist your sex appeal
I cant resist your sex appeal
I cant resist your sex appeal
I cant resist your sex appeal
I cant resist your sex appeal
I cant resist your sex appeal
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wagner Room
“Sorry, sir. Booked out.. but then...”
The patronne’s voice is calm, you’re
penniless again in Paris, facing doom
and banking on the hope her “then..
..again” - will mean a room.
“.Eh bien, there is..the Wagner one,
“That’s fine”.You sign and slip up to
the premier etage, aware you’re in
a debt of gratitude whose depth
is verging on Wagnerian
and gingerly approach the desk
on which the “Parsifal” composer
must’ve had the opening thunder
chords in music mind, . But find
you’re also forced to wonder-
was it this room’s compression,
exile, mounting debts, Minna’s
moods, music-drama’s dreams
had him contemplate such mad
mythic and Teutonic themes?
An overture begins. The Rienzi
chords cross-fade with strums
on a guitar, some Latin Quarter
busker shouts and in the bowels
beneath the metro drums,
a duke-box Piaf bleats Love Ever
and you have a letter to dash off
that is a winding -back of tape
in which you piece together all
these bits of Paris into shape.
poem by John a'Beckett
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The object of opening the mind, as of opening the mouth, is to shut it again on something solid.
quote by Gilbert K. Chesterton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Violins Weep
When telephone rings and my colleague
embarks on a loud conversation, I fight
back with Oblida-Oblada -life goes on-
to counter the noise, an energy squirt
while I struggle with a translation text
When silence descends I seek other
music, Saint-Saens nearly drove me
mad with loud piano chords, found
the soothing tones of Mantovani,
though the violins weep
In my mind long-sleeved ladies slow-
dance in the arms of tuxedoed men
all against a glittering background
of pink champagne…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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To a friend, on being asked for some verses
I thought the Soul of Song had made
This heart of mine her sepulchre;
For all her golden dreams had fled,
And I could win no note from her.
But when for thee thou bid'st her sing,
That spell dissolves her icy chain;
She slowly plumes her drooping wing,
And strikes her shattered chords again.
For more than lifeless would she be,
If thou shouldst bid her wake in vain;
And lost her chords, if still for thee
She could not wake one living strain.
For thee -- that hours of deep distress,
And days of gloom with kindness lit,
Till half I blessed the bitterness
That gave me thee to sweeten it.
For thee -- that when, despairing long,
I said, "No friend has earth for me,"
Didst bid the tones die on my tongue,
And I could utter, "only thee."
For thee -- that when my mother earth
Shall call me to her sheltering breast,
Of all I know wilt weep alone
Above my nameless place of rest.
But see! her wings refuse to fly;
Her chords are harsh from silence long;
Alas! thy gentle sorcery
Hath summoned but the ghost of Song.
She hovers o'er her living tomb,
She seeks once more her grave and chain,
As spectres haunt the midnight gloom:
Sweet friend, awake her not again.
If o'er the wind harp's gentle strings
The threatening tempest rudely flies,
It does not wake more thrilling strains --
The chords are rent, the music dies.
Thus is my harp, thus is my song --
I woo in vain its sweetness fled,
The storms have swept the chords too long,
The music of my soul is dead.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet. On a picture of the Virgin
If the young mother clasp, for the first time,
The mortal child that earthly love has given,
With a deep joy preluding that of heaven;
Who shall describe thy ecstacy sublime,
Oh Virgin mother! when upon thy ear
The message of the announcing angel fell,
In heavenly tones to calm thy rising fear,
And thy approaching glory to fortell.
Was ever mother so divinely blest,
As when, the glow of Heaven yet clinging round him,
Before the weight of human grief had bound him,
The gentle Christ-child to thy heart was prest?
Oh, blessed among women! joy like thine
What hand shall dare describe! alas, not mine.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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