SECOND HE—"Why do you say that?"
HE—"Well, you may pick beautiful strains on a mandolin for an hour, and she won't even look out of the window, but just one honk of a horn and—out she comes!"
Music is the language of the soul; jazz is its profanity.
"How do you sell your music?"
"We sell piano music by the pound and organ music by the choir."
"Samantha, what's thet chune the orchestry's a-playin' now?"
"The program says its 'Choppin', Hiram."