Haydn Quotes

On the other hand, for years I did not listen to Mozart after I was assaulted by the perverse idea that Mozart does not exist, because when he is good he is Beethoven and when he is bad he is Haydn.

Karena Tuhan memberi saya hati yang riang, Ia akan memaafkan saya karena saya berbakti kepadaNya dengan jiwa yang riang.

I’m not going to be caught unawares again,” Haydn argues. “Loving her made me weak. Foolish. And it was totally pointless anyway, because she has only ever loved you.

Beethoven introduced us to anger. Haydn taught us capriciousness, Rachmaninoff melancholy. Wagner was demonic. Bach was pious. Schumann was mad, and because his genius was able to record his fight for sanity, we heard what isolation and the edge of lunacy sounded like. Liszt was lusty and vigorous and insisted that we confront his overwhelming sexuality as well as our own. Chopin was a poet, and without him we never would have understood what night was, what perfume was, what romance was.

Haydn lets out a low whistle. “You’re a real piece of work.” “It’s okay,” I say, turning to face him. “I got the memo.” He arches a brow. “The one that says you hate my guts. There’s no need to rub it in.

I think one of the reasons it ended was that his eyes never lit up for me the way they did for classical music. I realize that in the long run I may not be as wonderful as a Brahms symphony but I think I’m good for a Haydn quintet.

I’ve told him personal things about myself. Private things I haven’t told others. Things I haven’t yet had the time to confide in Logan. In this moment, I regret it all. In this moment, I know that Haydn and I will never again be friends. In this moment, I want to punch him in the face until he bleeds.

I tell you before God, and as an honest man, your son is the greatest composer known to me by person and repute, he has taste and what is more the greatest skill in composition." (Said to Leopold Mozart)

President Bo Haydn was bent over the Resolute desk, snoring gently with the tip of his nose submerged in a half-eaten bowl of rice pudding. “Should we wake him?” asked Daisy. “We usually try not to,” said Nelson.

Haydn snorts. “Only gullible, lovesick fools spout that mushy crap.” Thank the stars that his tone is teasing, because I can sense Logan’s patience waning. “When you find the right girl, I’m so going to make you eat your words. And I’m going to thoroughly enjoy rubbing your nose in it.

I was cut off from the world. There was no one to confuse or torment me, and I was forced to become original.

Since Haydn, a symphony is no longer a simple affair, but a matter of life and death.

We don’t have time for all this personal drama.” My eyes flit between Logan, Haydn, and Ax. “And it’s not fair on the others. The atmosphere is horrendous because of what’s going on between us. And I’m so tired of it. All of it.” I take a step back. “I’m not discussing this anymore, with any of you.” I glare at the three boys. “So sort your shit out, and get your act together. Until then,” I say, turning around. “Leave me the hell alone.

What I long for with a deep ache inside me is sacred music. I long for the Fauré Requiem, for the Haydn “Mass in Time of War,” for some pure celestial music that could lift me above myself, into that sphere where great art lives, beyond what man can be in himself, the intimation of the sacred—what cannot be dirtied or smudged by wickedness or by anger, which no threat can touch.

Well," he said with equanimity, "you see, in my opinion there is no point at all in talking about music. I never talk about music. What reply, then, was I to make to your very able and just remarks? You were perfectly right in all you said. But, you see, I am a musician, not a professor, and I don't believe that, as regards music, there is the least point in being right. Music does not depend on being right, on having good taste and education and all that." "Indeed. Then what does it depend on?" "On making music, Herr Haller, on making music as well and as much as possible and with all the intensity of which one is capable. That is the point, Monsieur. Though I carried the complete works of Bach and Haydn in my head and could say the cleverest things about them, not a soul would be the better for it. But when I take hold of my mouthpiece and play a lively shimmy, whether the shimmy be good or bad, it will give people pleasure. It gets into their legs and into their blood. That's the point and that alone. Look at the faces in a dance hall at the moment when the music strikes up after a longish pause, how eyes sparkle, legs twitch and faces begin to laugh. That is why one makes music.

Haydn’s instructions are imprinted on my brain much the same way Logan’s face is imprinted on my heart.

but I have always suspected that one could substitute the Minuet of Haydn’s 98th symphony for the Minuet in Haydn’s 99th symphony without sensing a serious lack of coherence in either work.

You look exhausted,” Logan says, his eyes raking over me. “Why don’t you try and catch some sleep.” “All your nocturnal activities must be taking a toll,” Haydn mutters not too discreetly under his breath. “The same could be said for you,” I retort, in no mood to ignore his renewed mean streak. “That’s rich coming from you.” “Haydn.” How Logan can manage to convey such potent meaning with one word is sheer talent. And I’m eternally grateful, because it shuts Haydn up.

The Maximilian of her memory ceased to exist next to the real man. The former was a simple penny-lute tune. In the flesh, Max was the King’s Theater orchestra playing Haydn.

she has music, always classical—Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin, Haydn, Liszt.

In poche righe le confessava le sue emozioni dicendo di essersi sentito "come nell'Allegro con Brio della Sonata 50 in Re Maggiore di Haydn".

I could speak about the Haydn for hours—what a lovely friendship this might have been.

I tell you before God, and as an honest man, your son (W A Mozart)is the greatest composer known to me by person and repute, he has taste and what is more the greatest skill in composition.

I once was the guest of the week on a British radio show called Desert Island Discs. You have to choose the eight records you would take with you if marooned on a desert island. Among my choices was Mache dich mein Herze rein from Bach’s St Matthew Passion. The interviewer was unable to understand how I could choose religious music without being religious. You might as well say, how can you enjoy Wuthering Heights when you know perfectly well that Cathy and Heathcliff never really existed? But there is an additional point that I might have made, and which needs to be made whenever religion is given credit for, say, the Sistine Chapel or Raphael’s Annunciation. Even great artists have to earn a living, and they will take commissions where they are to be had. I have no reason to doubt that Raphael and Michelangelo were Christians—it was pretty much the only option in their time—but the fact is almost incidental. Its enormous wealth had made the Church the dominant patron of the arts. If history had worked out differently, and Michelangelo had been commissioned to paint a ceiling for a giant Museum of Science, mightn’t he have produced something at least as inspirational as the Sistine Chapel? How sad that we shall never hear Beethoven’s Mesozoic Symphony, or Mozart’s opera The Expanding Universe. And what a shame that we are deprived of Haydn’s Evolution Oratorio—but that does not stop us from enjoying his Creation.

I sensed that he was staring at me as I was explaining Haydn’s Seven Last Words of Christ, which I’d been transcribing. I was seventeen that year and, being the youngest at the table and the least likely to be listened to,

His fingers brushed the outline of the bronze disc hanging beneath his tunic. Haydn jerked his hand away, gritting his teeth as he tried to block the memories. The clashing of steel. The screams and cries of battle. They fled, replaced by flames. Shadows. Pleading and tears.

Haydn's hand tightened around the stone as he stared at the ground. "I need to find my sister. To save her. Maybe then I will be worthy." You will never be worthy. ..."I know." ...you are bound yet, and there is only one way you will ever be free. There is only one key for such chains.

I want to buy some records,' he [Thomas Mann] said. 'Add something to surprise me,' she [Katia Mann] said. 'Give me a clue.' 'Haydn, maybe,' she said. 'Some quartets or his piano music. That would be nice, and they do no harm.' 'Is that why you want them?' She smiled. 'They remind me of summer.

There can be no question that the loss of TV manufacture in the United States was a disruption, but the loss had not been brought about by a disruptive technology or disruptive innovation. The key factor in disruption was the Asian approach to innovation, based primarily on process improvement and optimal design.

full send is the only way forward

There was no one near to confuse me, so I was forced to become original.

And do you know the story about Haydn’s head? They cut it away from the still-warm cadaver so some insane scientist could take apart the brain and pinpoint the location of musical genius. And the Einstein Story? He’d carefully written his will with instructions to cremate him. They followed his orders, but his disciple, ever loyal and devoted, refused to live without the master’s gaze on him. Before the cremation, he took the eyes of the cadaver and put them in a bottle of alcohol to keep them watching him until the moment he should die himself. That’s why I said that the crematory fire is the only way our bodies can escape them. It’s the only absolute death. And I don’t want any other. Jean-Marc, I want an absolute death.

The Christian state religion was crowned by the dogma of the Trinity. Only now can this term be used, since the Second Ecumenical Council, of Constantinople, convened by Theodosius the Great in 381, defined the identity of substance of the Holy Spirit with the Father and the Son. The creed supplemented by this council, and therefore called the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed, is still in use in the Catholic Church today—alongside the brief Apostles’ Creed. So much did it finally come to be taken for granted that centuries later it was to be turned into great music by the greatest composers of Christianity (Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, in their settings of the mass). After this council, what the three Cappadocians (from Cappadocia,

Markets are not just about the steam engine, iron foundries, or today’s silicon-chip factories. Markets also supported Shakespeare, Haydn, and the modern book superstore. The rise of oil painting, classical music, and print culture were all part of the same broad social and economic developments, namely the rise of capitalism, modern technology, rule of law, and consumer society.

Úgy érzem, meg kell védenem a dzsesszt azokkal szemben, akik alacsonyrendűnek tartják. Ami azt illeti, minden zene „alacsony" származású, mivel a népzenéből is sarjad, ez pedig szükségszerűen mindig földszagú. Végül is Haydn menüettjei csupán egyszerű rusztikus német népi táncok kifinomult változatai, akárcsak a beethoveni scherzók. Egy Verdi-operaária is igen gyakran visszavezethető a legegyszerűbb nápolyi halászokhoz. Emellett a zene s különösen a zenészek körül mindig ott lebegett a lenézés bizonyos árnyéka.

It was Haydn and Mozart who really cracked the sonata, but it was Beethoven who reinvented it, just as he reinvented the symphony. Bach was king of the Baroque; Mozart and Haydn were kings of the Classical; Brahms, Chopin, Liszt, and Berlioz were the great Romantics. Bruckner, Mahler, and Wagner brought music into the twentieth century; Stravinsky and Schoenberg redefined harmony. But Beethoven was in a class of his own. He didn’t write music to praise God. He didn’t write it to earn a living. Beethoven wrote music because he had to.

Last year’s leaves exploded into rustling traitors under Haydn’s boots. Branches clawed at his cloak and he ducked, swiping away pale gray webs of moss. Gorawen’s fingers were wrapped around his left hand. A moonstone gleamed from his right. The dim light barely lifted the shadows as Haydn tucked the stone beside a log. Another flash of soaked moonbeams lurked on the edge of his sight. Half-covered, they’d not reveal their path to those following while marking a clear trail for his and Gorawen’s return and keep their own direction sure.

married with a child or two, wanted to own his own house, the only choice was to live in the suburbs and spend that much time getting to work and back. So two to three hours out of every twenty-four would be spent simply in the act of commuting. If you were lucky, you might be able to read the newspaper or a paperback in the train. Maybe you could listen to your iPod, to a Haydn symphony or a conversational Spanish lesson. Some people might even close their eyes, lost in deep metaphysical speculation. Still, it would be hard to call these two or

There is a striking feature of the twentieth century… the musical creation of the 20th century is qualitatively different from the 18th century, in that it lacks that immediate access or short-term access that was true of the past… I have no doubt that if we took two children of today two groups and taught one of them Mozart Haydn & Beethoven and the other Schoenberg and post Schoenbergian music, that there would be very substantial difference in their capacity to comprehend and deal with it, and that may reflect, and in fact if that’s correct it would reflect, something about our innate musical capacities.

On making music, Herr Haller, on making music as well and as much as possible and with all the intensity of which one is capable. That is the point, Monsieur. Though I carried the complete works of Bach and Haydn in my head and could say the cleverest things about them, not a soul would be the bet- ter for it. But when I take hold of my mouthpiece and play a lively shimmy, whether the shimmy be good or bad, it will give people pleasure. It gets into their legs and into their blood. That's the point and that alone. Look at the faces in a dance hall at the moment when the music strikes up after a longish pause, how eyes sparkle, legs twitch and faces begin to laugh. That is why one makes music.

Beethoven era un hombre orgulloso que tenía una confianza absoluta en su talento y que jamás aduló a la nobleza. Creía que el arte, la correcta manifestación de las pasiones, era la cosa más sublime de este mundo, digna del mayor respeto, y que eran el poder político y económico los que debían estar a su servicio. Haydn, cuando vivía (más o menos) sujeto a la nobleza, comía con los criados. Los músicos, en la época en la que él vivió, eran considerados parte del servicio. (Claro que Haydn, que era un hombre franco y de buen carácter, debía de preferir comer con los criados que compartir las ceremoniosas comidas de la nobleza.) Por el contrario, Beethoven se enfurecía ante cualquier trato insultante y llegó incluso a arrojar objetos contra las paredes. También insistió en sentarse a la mesa con la nobleza y en recibir un trato de igualdad. Beethoven

The entire Habsburg landscape was given a deep, even coating of musical interpretation, whether Smetana and Dvorak in Bohemia or Haydn and Schubert in Austria or Bartok and Kodaly in Hungary. As soon as you head south from Hungary or the Carpathians this music stops. And with food, the greedy, complex and extravagant Habsburg world of layered cakes, a mad use of chocolate, subtle soups and fine wines goes off a cliff. This is obviously an enormous subject, ludicrously compressed here, but the very idea of such complex foods trickled down in the west from royal courts, famously with the development of the idea of the 'French restaurant' in the aftermath of the Revolution. Indeed, we all eagerly guzzle a range of court foods - with many Indian and Chinese restaurants in the west also serving essentially court Mughal or Qing banquet foods, albeit in mutilated forms.

Being crazy was the conclusion of the joke Humboldt tried to make out of his great disappointment. He was so intensely disappointed. All a man of that sort really asks for is a chance to work his heart out at some high work. People like Humboldt – they express a sense of life, they declare the feelings of their times or they discover meanings or find out the truths of nature, using the opportunities their time offers. When those opportunities are great, then there’s love and friendship between all who are in the same enterprise. As you can see in Haydn’s praise for Mozart. When the opportunities are smaller, there’s spite and rage, insanity. I’ve been attached to Humboldt for nearly forty years. It’s been an ecstatic connection. The hope of having poetry – the joy of knowing the kind of man that created poetry. You know? There’s the most extraordinary, unheard-of poetry buried in America, but none of the conventional means known to culture can even begin to extract it. But now this is true of the world as a whole. The agony is too deep, the disorder too big for art enterprises undertaken in the old way.

Not only resemblances exist in things whose analogy is obvious, as when we detect the type of the human hand in the flipper of the fossil saurus, but also in objects wherein there is great superficial unlikeness. Thus architecture is called "frozen music," by De Stael and Goethe. Vitruvius thought an architect should be a musician. "A Gothic church," said Coleridge, "is a petrified religion." Michael Angelo maintained, that, to an architect, a knowledge of anatomy is essential. In Haydn's oratorios, the notes present to the imagination not only motions, as, of the snake, the stag, and the elephant, but colors also; as the green grass. The law of harmonic sounds reappears in the harmonic colors. The granite is differenced in its laws only by the more or less of heat, from the river that wears it away. The river, as it flows, resembles the air that flows over it; the air resembles the light which traverses it with more subtile currents; the light resembles the heat which rides with it through Space. Each creature is only a modification of the other; the likeness in them is more than the difference, and their radical law is one and the same.

Most artists, even some of the greatest (including the historians) have up to the present belonged to the serving classes (whether they serve people of high position or princes or women or "the masses"), not to speak of their dependence upon the Church and upon moral law. Thus Rubens portrayed the nobility of his age; but only according to their vague conception of taste, not according to his own measure of beauty — on the whole, therefore, against his own taste. Van Dyck was nobler in this respect: who in all those whom he painted added a certain amount of what he himself most highly valued: he did not descend from himself, but rather lifted up others to himself when he "rendered." The slavish humility of the artist to his public (as Sebastian Bach has testified in undying and outrageous words in the dedication of his High Mass) is perhaps more difficult to perceive in music; but it is all the more deeply engrained. A hearing would be refused me if I endeavoured to impart my views on this subject. Chopin possesses distinction, like Van Dyck. The disposition of Beethoven is that of a proud peasant; of Haydn, that of a proud servant. Mendelssohn, too, possesses distinction — like Goethe, in the most natural way in the world.

It may be necessary to premise that the critic considers J. S. Bach as the fountain-head of instrumental music, and ascribes its further and gradual development to C. P. E. Bach, J. Haydn, Mozart, Clementi, Cramer, Pleyel, until the art attained its climax under Beethoven at the beginning of the present century.—"Beethoven

W 1791 roku odwiedził go słynny kompozytor Józef Haydn, narzekając na polipa w nosie. Tak muzyk opisał potem tę wizytę: Zbadał moje polipy i stwierdził, że mnie wyleczy. Z powodu jakichś pilnych spraw poprosił, żebym to ja go odwiedził. Poszedłem do niego. Po powitalnych uprzejmościach do pokoju weszło kilku rosłych chłopów, którzy mnie złapali i próbowali siłą posadzić na krześle. Krzyknąłem, uderzając pięścią i tratując nogami, aż udało mi się wyswobodzić. Pan Hunter stał już obok ze swoimi narzędziami chirurgicznymi. Haydn miał chrapkę na żonę Huntera, a Hunter zasadzał się na jego polipa, chcąc go dodać do swojej muzealnej kolekcji medycznych osobliwości.

Ji Eun sat and sifted through the nuggets of Rory's narrative that she'd been able to understand, trying to piece them together into some coherent whole.

If Glenn related to anything outside of music, it was animals. When he bicycled through the countryside near his parents’ lakeside vacation cottage outside of Toronto, he sang to the cows. His pets included rabbits, turtles, a fully functioning skunk, goldfish named Bach, Beethoven, Chopin, and Haydn, and a parakeet named Mozart. There was also a series of beloved dogs: a big Newfoundland named Buddy, an English setter named Sir Nickolson of Garelocheed—or Nick for short—and, later, Banquo, a collie. One of Glenn’s childhood dreams was to someday create a preserve for old, injured, and stray animals on Manitoulin Island, north of Toronto, where he wanted to live out his old age by himself, surrounded by animals.

Whether or not we acknowledge it, the truth is that all of life, no matter what we are doing, is sacred if lived within the Kingdom of God. When we see our restaurant or engineering job as furthering God’s Kingdom, the focus shifts outside the church walls as we live in Christ each day.

That's why movies suck so bad these days; they're making them for people who don't even speak English. Less character development, more explosions and 3D dinosaurs and aliens and whatever.

Time is like an ocean, a vast body of water ebbing and flowing. Time travel is like throwing a rock into the water. It sends ripples across the surface. Time is disturbed. Things can get caught in the ripples, stuck in time pockets, sent to different periods.

The stupidity of the statement, the madness of the situation, incenses Libby; she's driving hard, and trying to comprehend the Savior's nonsense, and it occurs to her, for the first time since she entered Hank's ranch two weeks ago, It's all just bullshit, all of it, all life, all just nonsense and noise...

You can't reason with them. They think logic is fallacy, a human invention. They think chaos is the one truth, the answer; salvation.

It's testosterone," Sandra explained. "Too much, the guy's an ape. Too little, he's an ant.

She wasn't needed until people like him had a spare moment to get their heads examined. She could sleep as they cracked beneath the highpressure system of Manhattan morning, then stroll in at lunch time to mop the mental mess up.

The world's more globalized than ever before, but it's also never been more precarious.

To handle this new world, we need generational intelligence. The reason we struggle with other generations is not that they are “the problem.” The reason we struggle with other generations is that we don’t understand them. We don’t know why they think differently, so we stereotype, criticize, or make jokes. But when we start to understand another generation—rather than attempting to maneuver others into seeing things our way—we open ourselves to new possibilities of relating, helping, reaching, encouraging, and loving them.

Omenirea era săracă și se hrănea muncind, fără să distrugă bogățiile naturii, stînd la porțile ei cu modestie și fără să se gîndească încă la jaf. Răbdînd de foame putea să hrănească acolo cîțiva prinți și preoți, nu erau prea mulți, și această “nedreptate” socială este neînsemnată, dacă ținem seama de faptul că această diferență era necesară pentru formarea culturii. ... Nici o egalitate nu va înălța catedrale și palate, nu le va picta, nu le va împodobi. ... Din îndestulare se năștea disponibilitatea, din disponibilitate – capacitatea de apreciere, iar din capacitatea de apreciere – nivelul de cultură. În nici un caz invers. Cultura are nevoie de o bază, de bogăție. Nu pentru a satisface cerințele artistului, ci pentru a avea cu adevărat căutare. Este prea tîrziu deja să înțelegem acest rol pasiv, aproape biologic al aristocrației, și atît de evident. Nimănui nu-i trece acum prin cap că un extravagant din fruntea unui mic principat se pricepea pesemne foarte bine la muzică, dacă Haydn sau Bach erau “angajați” la el. Că papa se pricepea la pictură dacă avea de ales între Michelangelo și Rafael. Totuși aceștia erau niște oameni luminați. ... Doar pe seama inegalității sociale s-a perpetuat sensul umanității și posibilitatea ei.

Thomas showed Jade to the living room. Brown furniture and thick brown carpeting made the room darker than it should have been; it seemed to devour all the light let in by the windows. The fireplace was composed of large white-and-beige rocks that stuck out at strange angles to form an uneven surface. A Haydn symphony played in the background, the roll of a drum momentarily filling the air. Jade sat in a large brown chair, sinking in until he felt as if his knees were touching his chin. Mr. Atlasia sat down on the hearth. Apparently, he wasn’t bothered by the jagged edges of the rocks.

Writing is like painting with watercolour, sometimes it's what you leave out at matters.

Music has no interior beacon that guarantees permanent meaning. Unlike truth, which is transcultural, absolute, and unchangeable, music can shift in meaning from place to place and time to time. Of all the art forms, music is inherently the most flexible. The music of Bach, as deeply fixed within the churchly contexts of his time and ours, can still shift meanings while remaining great music in its own right. For Lutherans it is church music, par excellence. For the young convert from Satanism, it was evil. In its original form, the tune “Austria” was the imperial national anthem, “Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser,” composed by Haydn. He then used it as the principal theme for the slow movement in his Emperor Quartet. In this guise it reflects the essentially secular contexts for which it was written and is perfectly at home in the concert hall. It is also the tune for “Deutschland über Alles,” the German national anthem. And for Jewish people, it is associated with the unspeakable horrors of the holocaust. And finally, it is the tune to which the hymn “Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken” is sung in virtually all American churches. To American Christians this tune’s primary meaning is “sacred.” To them, it carries virtually none of its first two meanings, unless one or the other was impressed first into their memories. There is no way to explain this phenomenon other than that music, as music, is completely relative.

Haydn let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

It’s okay to think about a different generation in the same way we might think about a different country—Nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. Of course we will feel more comfortable with our own generation’s customs, music, approaches, and values. Our own generation will always feel like home. But that doesn’t mean we can’t visit other cultures and learn to appreciate them and to speak their language.

Right now, it's possible to do things that haven't been allowed on Wall Street since the Great Depression.

Laws become suggestions when you have enough money.

As I was heeding gravity’s pull down the hill, I also heard music coming from upstairs. Three instruments, a violin, a flute, and a cello, were playing in a second-floor apartment. They were murdering a piece by Bach, I think. The murder was not in question, I just wasn’t sure if it was Bach or Haydn or someone else being killed upstairs. I stopped dead in my tracks to listen to them. They played with such a confident erring. On they stumbled and they never stopped to correct themselves. They pushed forward through their mistakes to the end. I applauded. I had to. I’m not sure they noticed me, but what luck for me to witness their attempt that morning. I looked out at the bay. What fine luck. Moments like the soloist practicing scales in Portland and the trio murdering Bach in Iceland give me such energy and such hope. These musicians were playing loud for all to hear and tough luck to the world if it was not perfect and the world judged them harshly. There is only one way to the proficiency of the master, and the budding violinist knew it as did the trio. Practice. Keep practicing until the notes have the precision they require. Keep practicing until the work is transformed, until the work transforms you, until study becomes Mastery.

why hate life when you can think on the bright side

I was put off from the world---so I was forced to become original.

Another reason for annoyance is being unable to identify the music. I once spent a considerable period of time vainly searching through the scores of Haydn’s quartets, convinced that the tune which was preoccupying me was the slow movement of one of them. It turned out to be from his 88th Symphony, which I had not heard for a long time.

I was fifty-eight years old when I finally felt like a “master choreographer.” The occasion was my 128th ballet, The Brahms-Haydn Variations, created for American Ballet Theatre. For the first time in my career I felt in control of all the components that go into making a dance—the music, the steps, the patterns, the deployment of people onstage, the clarity of purpose. Finally I had the skills to close the gap between what I could see in my mind and what I could actually get onto the stage. Why did it take 128 pieces before I felt this way? A better question would be, Why not? What’s wrong with getting better as you get more work under your belt? The libraries and archives and museums are packed with early bloomers and one-trick ponies who said everything they had to say in their first novel, who could only compose one good tune, whose canvases kept repeating the same dogged theme. My respect has always gone to those who are in it for the long haul. When people who have demonstrated talent fizzle out or disappear after early creative success, it’s not because their gifts, that famous “one percent inspiration,” abandoned them; more likely they abandoned their gift through a failure of perspiration.

A significant proportion of humanity’s cultural achievements owe their existence to the exploitation of conquered populations. The profits and prosperity brought by Roman imperialism provided Cicero, Seneca and St Augustine with the leisure and wherewithal to think and write; the Taj Mahal could not have been built without the wealth accumulated by Mughal exploitation of their Indian subjects; and the Habsburg Empire’s profits from its rule over its Slavic, Hungarian and Romanian-speaking provinces paid Haydn’s salaries and Mozart’s commissions.

I force myself to fall into a routine. Froth the milk. Pump the cane sugar. Pretend there isn’t a dead bird in a box in my apartment. The first two are easier than the third.

If I can’t keep her in the waking hours, I’ll hold her tighter when my eyes are closed.

He’s loud in a quiet way, the kind of disturbance where his voice is like a screeching car brake, but still soft and aloof.

Maybe I can’t keep her, but dreaming is free. If I can’t keep her in the waking hours, I’ll hold her tighter when my eyes are closed.

You need a plan of attack.” “I need a what now?” “Do you want to climb this woman like a tree or not?” That’s it. The heat has finally made her lose her mind.

Jaws would make a lasting impression on me and my friends. This imagination manifested itself into our playground games. We built our very own Orca. A large dose of childlike imagination, the vital ingredient here. With buckets, watering can, old bits of corrugated iron, anything we could muster, the Orca took shape. A game invented, for downtime, between screenings of Jaws.

Haydn flushed, mortified and confused by his own behavior. Alphas didn’t bare their throats, or at least bared them very rarely as a sign of respect, usually to older alphas they were related to. He had no damn reason to bare his throat to his beta husband.

You’re a good person, Natalia.” She has to laugh at that. “I think the rest of the world with disagree.” “The rest of the world hasn’t had the honor of being loved by you.

I would give her whatever she needed, even if all she asked for was time.

told her I know what it’s like to have lost the one family member that truly loved you and have to live with the one who never comes around anymore.

I told her I know what it’s like to have lost the one family member that truly loved you and have to live with the one who never comes around anymore.

The Clubmen were an organised body and had set resolutions for what they saw as a solution to the war. We see reference to the great charter and The Petition of Right in the declaration. So, we see here a direct demand for a return to these basic rights now lost in a war not of their making. The Clubmen as an association, as this is what they were, had direction, just cause and spoke directly for those outside the warring armies. Those affected by war are making their voices heard. Not a call for a side to support but a demand from the generality for a solution to a war put upon those that would see fit to impose a war upon them.

Haydn’s Symphony No. 96 is nicknamed “The Miracle” because the audience dodged a chandelier that fell from the ceiling at the premiere.

Some Boccherini – a ’cello piece – and the Haydn trio that we arranged. And Mrs Harte is going to play the harp. Come and sit by me.’ ‘Well, I suppose I shall have to,’ said Stephen, ‘the room being so crowded. Yet I had hoped to enjoy this concert: it is the last we shall hear for some time.

I guess everyone's a fan of someone.

Here are some musical selections you can play quietly for the fetus. Since these pieces may calm the baby after birth, it’s good to have a small but well-rehearsed repertoire. These are recommended by Dr. F. Rene Van de Carr and musician and retired professor Dr. Donald Shetler. Music for the Royal Fireworks, Handel “Spring,” from The Four Seasons, Vivaldi Air on the G String,J. S. Bach The Brandenburg Concertos, J. S. Bach Canon in D Major, Pachelbel Pictures at an Exhibition, Mussorgsky Slow steady pieces by Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, or Vivaldi Popular music by Tom Paxton, Burl Ives, Tom Chapin, and Raffi

We don’t protect our young people’s faith by thinking they can’t handle difficult intellectual challenges. We protect them by helping them think through the challenges.

The US tire industry in the 1930s, TV manufacture in the 1960s, and autos in the 1970s all suffered the effects of decision processes that were unresponsive to change because of the range of obligations that went with quasi-monopoly. In all three cases, the attack came from the rise of cheaper sources of production in Asia.

Despite Grumblethorpe's noises of disapproval, Esme knew she liked the family pets.She just did't approve of having so many of them in her mistress's bedroom at once. Still, it was an old battle and one the lady's maid had given up waging long ago. Good thing too, since four of Esme's six cats- who had all started life in either Braebourne stables or as strays she'd rescued- were snoozing in various locations around her room. They included a big orange male, Tobias, who was curled up in a cozy spot in the middle of her bed; Queen Elizabeth- a sweet-natured tabby, who was lounging in her usual window seat; Mozart- a luxuriously coated white longhair who luckily loved being brushed; and Naiad, a one-eyed black female, whom Esme had rescued from drowning as a kitten. Her other two cats, Persephone and Ruff, were out and about, seeing to their own cat business. As for the dogs, Burr lay stretched out on the hearthrug in front of the fireplace. He snored gently, clearly tired after their recent adventures. And joining him in the land of dreams was dear old Henry, a brindle spaniel who was curled up inside a nearby dog bed lined with plush pillows that helped cushion his aging joints. Handel and Haydn, a pair of impish Scottish terriers, were absent. She suspected they were on the third floor playing with her increasingly large brood of nieces and nephews. The dogs loved the children.

it’s about what Jesus wants and not what you prefer.

The balance of power in the economy is shifting toward a small number of companies and very definitely away from policy makers and those in governance. We need to be more aware of these shifts and how to manage them for the common good.

Cities are efficient when they delegate power to self-determining local groups, or ecosystems. The more that responsibility is delegated, the more efficient they become. This principle gives a strong clue about how a new economy is growing around us today.

There is no sector the new model will not touch. Everywhere it goes, it brings a wholly new dynamic characterized by greater levels of innovation; devolution of risk to smaller companies; a significant dependency on open-source communities that work with their own rules and values; and a vastly accelerated economic pace where commentators now talk of innovation as “continuous deployment” or “continuous delivery.

Composing for money was held in no shame, and the public concert spread throughout Europe. Wealthy countries that did not groom their own composers, such as England, imported them from outside with lucrative offers. Handel and Haydn were their two most notable imports. British conductor Roger Norrington said of Handel: "[the Messiah] was written for money ... he was a commercial composer; if he were alive today, he'd be doing jingles for

I should have perished of despair in my youth but for the world created for me by that great German dynasty which began with Bach and will perhaps not end with Richard Strauss. Do not suppose for a moment that I learnt my art from English men of letters. True, they showed me how to handle English words; but if I had known no more than that, my works would never have crossed the Channel. My masters were the masters of a universal language: they were, to go from summit to summit, Bach, Handel, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Wagner. Had the Germans understood any of these men, they would have hanged them. Fortunately they did not understand them, and therefore only neglected them until they were dead, after which they learnt to dance to their tunes with an easy conscience. For their sakes Germany stands consecrated as the Holy Land of the capitalist age, just as Italy, for its painters' sakes, is the Holy Land of the early unvulgarized Renascence; France, for its builders' sakes, of the age of Christian chivalry and faith; and Greece, for its sculptors' sakes, of the Periclean age.

En cambio, no volví a escuchar a Mozart durante años, desde que me asaltó la idea perversa de que Mozart no existe, porque cuando es bueno es Beethoven y cuando es malo es Haydn.

Un cementerio era nuestro mundo cultural, aquí era Jesucristo y Sócrates, eran Mozart y Haydn, Dante y Goethe,

The Prince doesn’t stop all harm. It is a testing, even now. But he opened a way for our reunion with the King. He died, Haydn. You said you were there. You know what he did. What more could anyone give? ~Traveon