Best 15 quotes in «mozart quotes» category

Am reading the life of Mozart and cannot help thinking that one's capacity for suffering is in direct proportion to one's greatness.

Every time I hear Mozart, Eine Kleine Nachtmusik and Beethoven-Symphony NO.5 in C Minor- It bring to mind those beautiful childhood memories of back home around noon time. Memories of my Sweet Barbados

heaven and earth, nature and man, comedy and tragedy, … the Virgin Mary and the demons...Mozart simply contains and includes all this within his music in perfect harmony. This harmony is not a matter of “balance” or “indifference” – it is a glorious upsetting of the balance, a turning in which the light rises and the shadows fall, in which the Yes rings louder than the ever-present

Gerade Künstler mit zwanghaftem Arbeitstrieb wie Mozart oder Balzac bedurften der gewaltsamen Losreißung vom Werk. Mozart erholte sich vom Klavierspiel beim Glücksspiel, Balzac erholte sich in der eleganten Welt von der Welt, beide starben dann an ihren Erholungen.

In 1829 Rossini was at an age which has often proven critical in the lives of musicians, painters and writers. Lapses into silence far more complete than Rossini's, creative failures, suicides, and unanticipated deaths have been common in the middle to late 30s. As Charles Rosen has noted, 'It is the age when the most fluent composer begins to lose the ease of inspiration he once possessed, when even Mozart had to make sketches and to revise'.

I looked on astounded as from his ordinary life he made his art. We were both ordinary men, he and I. Yet from the ordinary he created Legends--and I from Legends created only the ordinary!

[In reference to how he came to love music after hearing Mozart's sonatas] I believe that love is a better teacher than a sense of duty, at least for me.

Mori made an unwilling sound. 'I don't like Western art.' 'No look at this.' He lifted it from its package. It wasn't heavy. 'It's clever, it looks like busy Mozart.' 'What?' 'I . . .' Thaniel sighed. 'I see sound. Mozart looks like this. You know. Fast strings.' 'See? In front of you?' 'Yes. I'm not mad.' 'I didn't think so. All sounds?' 'Yes.

You said how Michelangelo was a manic-depressive who portrayed himself as a flayed martyr in his painting. Henri Matisse gave up being a lawyer because of appendicitis. Robert Schumann only began composing after his right hand became paralyzed and ended his career as a concert pianist. (...) You talked about Nietzsche and his tertiary syphilis. Mozart and his uremia. Paul Klee and the scleroderma that shrank his joints and muscles to death. Frida Kahlo and the spina bifida that covered her legs with bleeding sores. Lord Byron and his clubfoot. The Bronte sisters and their tuberculosis. Mark Rothko and his suicide. Flannery O’Connor and her lupus. Inspiration needs disease, injury, madness. “According to Thomas Mann,” Peter said, “‘Great artists are great invalids.

Mozart is just God's way of making the rest of us feel insignificant.

Mozart,” Julie says in a bitter chuckle, staring at the speaker. “It’s supposed to be the pinnacle of art, right? This transcendent human achievement? And we use it for background noise in bathrooms. We literally shit on it.

Q: What genres do you especially enjoy reading? And which do you avoid? A: I love reading anything about gigantic animate blobs of molten iron who secretly long to be concert pianists. It’s not a particularly well-populated genre, but in particular I’d mention, “Grog, Who Loved Chopin,” as well as the somewhat derivative “Clom, Big Fan of Mozart.

She’d never seen a boy with hands like that, with long, delicate fingers, beautiful but still masculine. His fingernails were long too, almost crystalline, tapered to points. They were the kind of hands you’d expect to see under lace cuffs, like Mozart or something.

The only thing--I tell you this straight from the heart--that disgusts me in Salzburg is that one can't have any proper social intercourse with those people--and that music does not have a better reputation...For I assure you, without travel, at least for people from the arts and sciences, one is a miserable creature!...A man of mediocre talents always remains mediocre, may he travel or not--but a man of superior talents, which I cannot deny myself to have without being blasphemous, becomes--bad, if he always stays in the same place. If the archbishop would trust me, I would soon make his music famous; that is surely true.

Wolfgang Amadé Mozart takes pity on Leutgeb, ass, ox, and simpleton, at Vienna, March 27, 1783.