Piano Quotes - Page 17

I have owned and played a Steinway all my life. It's the best Beethoven piano. The best Chopin piano. And the best Ray Charles piano. I like it, too.

Ebony and ivory live together in perfect harmony, side by side on my keyboard piano, oh Lord, why don't we?

I grew up in St. Louis in a tiny house full of large music - Mahalia Jackson and Marian Anderson singing majestically on the stereo, my German-American mother fingering 'The Lost Chord' on the piano as golden light sank through trees, my Palestinian father trilling in Arabic in the shower each dawn.

It is my aim, my destination in life to make the cello as beloved an instrument as the violin and piano.

I was always involved in the arts from a young age. I started studying classical piano at age four as a student of the Associated Board of the Royal School of Music.

I was 20 years old. I had moved to Los Angeles from Columbus, Ohio. I was working as a piano salesman - a terrible piano salesman. I couldn't sell them. I could demonstrate them, but people wouldn't buy them from me.

I became really creative around the time I started understanding that people could be creative with music and that that was allowed. I stated taking piano lessons at age five, but I never did what my piano teacher told me to do. I would just do whatever I wanted.

I can't read or write music. When I want to remember something, I try to remember all the keys on the piano. Which is what I still do. I put the numbers on the keys. And that's got to become music again.

Age enlarges and enriches the powers of some musical instruments - notably those of the violin - but it seems to set a piano's teeth on edge.

Without the piano my life would be a disaster - nobody would hold me in any regard. It's the thing that saved me.

With just one musician, you can really do an unlimited number of things on the inside of the piano, if you have at your disposal an exploded keyboard.

This happened to me last week. We're in the process of remodeling our house; we've been doing it for a while now. And we have the painters in, putting sheets up around the furniture, you know? And we have a piano, just a regular, up against the wall piano. One of the painters said to me, "Is that y'all's piano?" I said, "Nah, that's our coffee table, it just has buckteeth! Here's your Sign!

My early life was full of music because my sisters played the piano and I started playing at three.

I cannot write music. I cannot play the piano.

Yes, I have been studying piano since I was six. Classical, jazz, compositional, Broadway, everything. I just love it all.

The piano is the social instrument par excellence... drawing-room furniture, a sign of bourgeois prosperity, the most massive of the devices by which the young are tortured in the name of education and the grown-up in the name of entertainment.

I play piano and write better than I can sing.

My mother always wanted to be in show business, but her parents discouraged her. So when I started performing for the mirror she enrolled me in dancing, singing and piano lessons.

I never had any social life, just played the piano and studied, studied, studied.

It's all very well having a great pianist playing but it's no good if you haven't got anyone to get the piano on the stage in the first place, otherwise the pianist would be standing there with no bloody piano to play.

Just with the basic one guitar, one piano and one vocal and an audience, I think that the intimacy comes through more. People feel much more connected to the song because there's nothing in the way, and I actually enjoy doing that.

One's own free unfettered choice, one's own caprice-however wild it may be, one's own fancy worked up at times to frenzy-is that very "most advantageous advantage" which we have overlooked, which comes under no classification and against which all systems and theories are continually being shattered to atoms... [an]will attain his object-that is, convince himself he is a man and not a piano-key!

I never took guitar lessons. I took classical piano lessons from the age of six when we lived in Holland.

It's not a bloody piano, it's a clarenARt...you weird talking person.

It so happened that Lucy, who found daily life rather chaotic, entered a more solid world when she opened the piano. She was then no longer either deferential or patronizing; no longer either a rebel or a slave.