Happy New Year!
Recently in the home of a good friend and wonderful musician I found this book full of quotes from famous composers, writers and poets. The book is called "The Gift of Music" and below is my favorite. Please enjoy!
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I am Music. I make the world weep and laugh, wonder and worship.
I tell the story of love, the story of hate, the story that saves and the story that destroys. I am the incense upon which prayers float to Heaven. I am the smoke which palls over the field of battle where men die with me on their lips.
I am close to the marriage altar, and when the grave opens I stand nearby. I call the wanderer home, I rescue the soul from the depths; I open the lips of lovers and through me the dead whisper to the living.
One I serve as I serve all, and the king I make my slave as easily as I subject his slave. I speak through the birds of the air, the insects of the field, the crash of waters on rock ribbed shores, the sighing of the winds in the trees, and I am even heard by the soul that knows me in the clatter of the wheels on city streets.
-Anonymous.
Recently in the home of a good friend and wonderful musician I found this book full of quotes from famous composers, writers and poets. The book is called "The Gift of Music" and below is my favorite. Please enjoy!
---------------------------------------------------------------------
I am Music. I make the world weep and laugh, wonder and worship.
I tell the story of love, the story of hate, the story that saves and the story that destroys. I am the incense upon which prayers float to Heaven. I am the smoke which palls over the field of battle where men die with me on their lips.
I am close to the marriage altar, and when the grave opens I stand nearby. I call the wanderer home, I rescue the soul from the depths; I open the lips of lovers and through me the dead whisper to the living.
One I serve as I serve all, and the king I make my slave as easily as I subject his slave. I speak through the birds of the air, the insects of the field, the crash of waters on rock ribbed shores, the sighing of the winds in the trees, and I am even heard by the soul that knows me in the clatter of the wheels on city streets.
-Anonymous.
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