Quotes About Expression

Damn chicken. Come eat your dinner. I'm cold.

I don't speak fluent bumpkin...

Each woman is like an instrument, waiting to be learned, loved, and finely played, to have at last her own true music made. Some might take offense at this way of seeing things, not understanding how a trouper views his music. They might think I degrade women. They might consider me callous, or boorish, or crude. But those people do not understand love, or music, or me.

Music explains itself...It is the road and it is the map that shows the road. It is both together.

I heard the silence pouring from them. The audience held themselves quiet, tense, and tight, as if the song had burned them worse than flame. Each person held their wounded selves closely, clutching their pain as if it were a precious thing.

So rather than risk saying the wrong thing, I said nothing.

Once, I sang colors to a blind man. Seven hours I played, but at the end he said he saw them, green and red and gold. That, I think, was easier than this. Trying to make you understand her with nothing more than words. You have never seen her, never heard her voice. You cannot know.

Recuerda esto, hijo mío, aunque olvides todo lo demás: un poeta es un músico que no sabe cantar. Las palabras tienen que encontrar la mente de un hombre si pretenden llegar a su corazón, y la mente de algunos hombres es lamentablemente pequeña. La música llega al corazón por pequeña o acérrima que sea la mente de quien la escucha.

I realize that I cannot say enough. So. Since I cannot say enough, at least I will avoid saying to much".

Music is a proud, temperamental mistress. Give her the time and attention she deserves, and she is yours. Slight her and there will come a day when you call and she will not answer.

Utilizar palabras para hablar de palabras es como utilizar un lápiz para hacer un dibujo de ese lápiz sobre ese mismo lápiz. Imposible. Desconcertante. Frustrante.

There is something deeply satisfying in shaping something with your hands. Proper artificing is like a song made solid. It is an act of creation.

He laid a hand on my shoulder. "Using words to talk of words is like using a pencil to draw a picture of itself, on itself. Impossible. Confusing. Frustrating." He lifted his hands high above his head as if stretching for the sky. "But there are other ways to understanding!" he shouted, laughing like a child. He threw both arms to the cloudless arch of sky above us, still laughing. "Look!" he shouted tilting his head back. "Blue! Blue! Blue!

Congratulations, he said. "That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen." His expression was a mix of awe and disbelief. "Ever.

He writes like he´s afraid someone might actually understand him.

Poetry is a song without music. A song without music is like a body without a soul.

I wish I felt as calm as I look

No me acuerdo del último verso. ¡Qué poco me gusta la poesía! ¿Cómo puede uno recordar las palabras sin música?

La música existe para cuando nos fallan las palabras. (Kvothe)

Soy Ruh hasta la médula, y cuando ha terminado la escena, sé salir del escenario.

si vuelves a decirme una frase de siete palabras, me desmayo. (Denna)

This is why we have music, after all. Words cannot always do the work we need them to. Music is there for when words fail us. Finally

Luego toqué la canción que se esconde en el centro de mí. Esa música sin letra que recorre los rincones secretos de mi corazón. La toqué con cuidado, desgranando las notas lenta y suvamente en el oscuro silencio nocturno. Me gustaría poder decir que es una canción alegre, que es dulce y animada, pero no lo es.

Las palabras no siempre pueden hacer el trabajo para el que las necesitamos. La música existe para cuando nos fallan las palabras