Quotes about piano

To play a wrong note is insignificant to play without passion is inexcusable!

Schumann's 'Quintet in E flat for Piano and Strings' is one of the sublime moments in Romantic music.

I had never before thought of how awful the relationship must be between the musician and his instrument. He has to fill it, this instrument, with the breath of life, his own. He has to make it do what he wants it to do. And a piano is just a piano. It's made out of so much wood and wires and little hammers and big ones, and ivory. While there's only so much you can do with it, the only way to find this out is to try; to try and make it do everything.

I turn my back on him as he goes,and settle myself in the parlor,and touch Ma's piano.My fingers leave sighsin the dust.

I'm gonna go put my earplugs in and practice piano for hours until my fingers bleed. I practice the piano with the focus of Helen Keller—and nothing can distract me from the scent of the music.-Karen Quan and Jarod Kintz

I dial her mum's number, then sit down cross-legged, facing the wall. When she comes on the line, she sounds uncertain, hesitant. 'Hey! Guess where I am?' I ask, my voice loud with false cheer. 'Rami told me. The Wellesly Hospital in Worthing. What's it like?' 'For a loony-bin it's actually quite decent,' I reply. 'I don't have Sky or an en-suite, and the menu isn't exactly à la carte, but you know...' I tail off. There is a silence. 'Do you have your own room?' Jenna asks, 'Oh yeah, yeah. I hav

Elizabeth was not playing for the sake of exhibiting her virtuosity: she played for joy.

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

the study of jurisprudence, by which I must earn my bread, has so withered and frozen the flowers of my fancy that they will never again seek the light. (To his Mother, November 11, 1829)

The power of music feels like taking a a nice brake from this busy world

He considered for a moment, then started to play a piece that was very familiar to Ruth, although she had no idea what it was. It was lilting and wistful, and she could have sung the melody if she had wished."Alright?" He raised his eyebrows inquiringly."Yes. Exactly."It was effortless and perfect, and he played it through to the end, closing with the softest and most delicate chords, which hung and faded in the quiet hall like the grains of dust raining through the evening light. Ruth was touch

There are eighty-eight keys on a piano and within that, an entire universe.

Life is like a piano. White keys are happy moments and the black ones are sad moments. Both keys are played together to give us the sweet music called Life.

ROCK STATE OF MINDThe lights go outDarkness takes over my mindI can see only the unreal…The sound of the pianoWhispers in my earsProvoking the sea of tearsBreaking down the stringsAttaching me to my fearsThe violin wakens the dreamsCreating the willDetaching from the groundLifting me upTo be one with the dark cloudsTo feel the storm whelming up insideThe strings of the guitar cinchesThe cords binding me to youLuring me to the ends of the galaxiesGluing me to an inaccessible timeWhere time stands

I do not believe in decent women who do not know how to play the piano.

If life was a piano light and darkness would be the keys. And shadows would be the melody that creates the harmony.

Name a song. Any song at all."She thought for a moment and said, "'Claire de Lune.'"I placed my hands on the keyboard. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back and struck a key, sounding a single note. "There you go. Gimme another one. I can play the first note of anything. As long as I get to choose the key it's in.

If, while at the piano, you attempt to form little melodies, that is very well; but if they come into your mind of themselves, when you are not practising, you may be still more pleased; for the internal organ of music is then roused in you. The fingers must do what the head desires; not the contrary.

When you play, never mind who listens to you.

Arin. I've wanted to do this for a long time."Her words silenced him, steadied him.Antecipation lifted within her like the fragance of a garden under the rain. She sat at the piano, touching the keys. "Ready?"He smiled. "Play.

The piano ain't got no wrong notes.

I wish the government would put a tax on pianos for the incompetent.

Play always as if in the presence of a master.

Pianos, unlike people, sing when you give them your every growl. They know how to dive into the pit of your stomach and harmonize with your roars when you’ve split yourself open. And when they see you, guts shining, brain pulsing, heart right there exposed in a rhythm that beats need need, need need, need need, pianos do not run. And so she plays.

The kingdom of music is not the kingdom of this world; it will accept those whom breeding and intellect and culture have alike rejected. The commonplace person begins to play, and shoots into the empyrean without effort, whilst we look up, marvelling how he has escaped us, and thinking how we could worship him and love him, would he but translate his visions into human words, and his experiences into human actions. Perhaps he cannot; certainly he does not, or does so very seldom.

When she started to play, Steinway came down personally and rubbed his name off the piano.

Everybody told me this 'girl on the piano' thing was never going to work.

Music is what our soul sounds like when it sings.

Like everyone, I want my soul to thrum. I run my long nails over the keys like I'm scratching the back of a lover.

The notes I handle no better than many pianists. But the pauses between the notes - ah, that is where the art resides.

~Dance~My fingers danceOn the set Of ivory & black pirouettes.I let goWhile my fingers fly, Making music through the night.This is the best therapy. A place of release, House of freedom & relief.My oasis of redemption.My river of gentle.My ocean of mental. My mind is relieved. My fingers are free To let go, making music sweet.Rache Nicole Wagner Original

A pianist is a painter of music

Life's like the piano and the violin, it's about how smart you could play the melodies to make a good harmony.

There's a story here.A catastrophic silence where our thoughts and feelings collide ...Where your sweetness overrides my senses and our bodies move to the same tune.The same song.The same melody.The same stroke.The same rhythm.It's our story, Trinity, and it's just begging to be told.

The pianokeys are black and whitebut they sound like a million colors in your mind

As for the piano, the faster her fingers flew over it, the more he marveled. She struck the keys with aplomb and ran from one end of the keyboard to the other without a stop.

(Referring to the piano's natural shape) Isn't it a shame when those big fat opera singers lean against the pianos and bend them?

I dreamt of you last night - as if I was playing the piano and you were turning the pages for me.

She always paid attention to fingers rather than faces because they told so much more. People remembered to guard their faces. They forgot their hands. Her own were small, though strong and supple from all the hours of piano playing, but what use was that now? For the first time she understood what real danger does to the human mind, as flat white fear froze the coils of her brain.

It was not for the piano-tuner to know that in this still, grey, winter-gripped dining-room, this apparent mortuary of desire and passion (in which the lift rumbled and knives and forks scraped upon plates), waves were flowing forward and backward, and through and through, of hellish revulsion and unquenchable hatred!

On the stage Tristen bent over the piano, his fingers swift and sure, his blond hair gleaming under the spotlight. I glanced around at the audience, watching their faces, gratified that they were as captivated as I was by the dark, thunderous song that Tristen conjured.

There was something about her playing... a knowledge of darkness in the most extreme form.

Jan had always been a good pianist, and now he was the finest in the world.

But most of the time, with a contented resignation that comes normally to a man only at the end of a long and busy life, he sat before the keyboard and filled the air with his beloved Bach. Perhaps he was deceiving himself, perhaps this was some merciful trick of the mind but now it seemed to Jan that this what he had always wished to do. His secret ambition had at last dared to emerge into the full light of consciousness. Jan had always been a good pianist, and now he was the finest in the worl

I got obsessed with classical music, I got obsessed with Chopin, with playing the piano.

Change your life experiences through the thoughts you think.Practice thinking good thoughts and your life will reflect what you are thinking.We have the blessing of choice.

Investing in a startup does not make you an entrepreneur any more than buying a grand piano makes you a concert pianist.

Each stroke of your fingers is a different word that describes the story. By itself it’s meaningless, but—” I pushed down on a few fingers helping her play a few notes. “String them together and you have a melody. You have a story. So, Saylor, what story do you want to tell?

Learn to look up now and then, just in case a piano is falling from overhead.