“Scattered among these things are reminders that sound once existed: a metronome, a drumming pad, a guitar pick, a trumpet mouthpiece, a music stand, a tuning fork, a block of rosin...The older instruments bear the marks of those who have already played them, the scuffs and bites and dents that are the mysterious scars of sound. In their midst the house hangs, tenuous and enveloping, a sounding board waiting to be struck.”
“Sound drums and trumpets! Farewell sour annoy! For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.”
“We don't like their sound and guitar music is on the way out.”
“Music sounds different to the one who plays it. It is the musician's curse.”
“Music is nothing else but wild sounds civilized into time and tune.”
“I now understood the secret of music and knew what makes it so infinitely superior to all the other arts: its incorporeality. Once it has left an instrument it becomes its own master, a free and independent creature of sound, weightless, incorporeal and perfectly in tune with the universe.”