“Dancing music, music sad,Both together, sane and mad…”

“There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.”

“was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?”

“Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them; thou has thy music too.”

“Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.”

“How sad is it when a luxurious imagination is obliged in self defense to deaden its delicacy in vulgarity, and riot in things attainable that it may not have leisure to go mad after things which are not.”

“Alas! when passion is both meek and wild!”