Music falls on the silence like a sense, A passion that we feel, not understand.

Two things of opposite natures seem to depend On one another, as a man depends On a woman, day on night, the imagined On the real. This is the origin of change…

In solitude the trumpets of solitude Are not of another solitude resounding; A little string speaks for a crowd of voices.

Nothing had happened because nothing had changed. Yet the General was rubbish in the end.

Music is a means capable of expressing dark dramatism and pure rapture, suffering and ecstasy, fiery and cold fury, melancholy and wild merriment - and the sub…

Just as my fingers on these keys Make music, so the self-same sounds On my spirit make a music, too. Music is feeling, then, not sound; And thus it is that wha…

From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft is the type.