Where painting is weakest, namely, in the expression of the highest moral and spiritual ideas, there music is sublimely strong.—Mrs. Stowe.
There is something marvelous in music. I might almost say that music is, in itself, a marvel. Its position is somewhere between the region of thought and that of phenomena; a glimmering medium between mind and matter, related to both and yet differing from either. Spiritual, and yet requiring rhythm; material, and yet independent of space.—Heinrich Heine.
The hidden soul of harmony.—Milton.
Give me some music! music, moody food of us that trade in love.—Shakespeare.
Explain it as we may, a martial strain will urge a man into the front rank of battle sooner than an argument, and a fine anthem excite his devotion more certainly than a logical discourse.—Tuckerman.
Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.—Milton.
Music, in the best sense, does not require novelty; nay, the older it is, and the more we are accustomed to it, the greater its effect.—Goethe.
Music, which gentler on the spirit lies than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.—Tennyson.
Melodies die out like the pipe of Pan, with the ears that love them and listen for them.—George Eliot.
Music can noble hints impart, engender fury, kindle love, with unsuspected eloquence can move and manage all the man with secret art.—Addison.