I got in the school band and the school choir. It all hit me like a ton of bricks, everything just came out. I played percussion for a while, and stayed after school forever just tinkering around with different things, the clarinets and the violins.
I got in the school band and the school choir. It all hit me like a ton of bricks, everything just came out. I played percussion for a while, and stayed after school forever just tinkering around with different things, the clarinets and the violins.
If there's a common denominator, it's boomers finding more meaning in how they spend their time. They don't want to be taken out of circulation, ... They want to unplug from the pressures, yes, but they want to plug back in to something they're passionate about Maybe they always wanted to make violins or save the homeless kids on the mall. Now, the mortgage and orthodontic-bill pressure is gone and they can do things they've always wanted to do.
That plain white-aproned man, who stood at work
Patient and accurate full fourscore years,
Cherished his sight and touch by temperance,
And since keen sense is love of perfectness
Made perfect violins, the needed paths
For inspiration and high mastery.
Every single one of us can do things that no one else can do - can love things that no one else can love. We are like violins. We can be used for doorstops, or we can make music. You know what to do.
It is sweet to dance to violins When Love and Life are fair To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes Is delicate and rare But it is not sweet with nimble feet To dance upon the air.
Sometimes in films it's nice to have violins on either side, rather than on one side, so you've got more of a stereo picture with the violins. Sometimes it's good to have the basses in the middle.
It is as absurd to say that a man can't love one woman all the time as it is to say that a violinist needs several violins to play the same piece of music.
When these guys came in today we didn't put candles in the room and have organ music playing and violins, and the grim reaper around the corner. It is what it is. Hey, we lost the game through our own mistakes, through needless penalties.
We are like violins. We can be used as doorstops, or we can make music.
In the late 1600s the finest instruments originated from three rural families whose workshops were side by side in the Italian village of Cremona. First were the Amatis, and outside their shop hung a sign 'The best violins in all Italy.' Not to be outdone, their next-door neighbors, the family Guarnerius, hung a bolder sign proclaiming 'The Best Violins In All The World' At the end of the street was the workshop of Anton Stradivarius, and on its front door was a simple notice which read 'The best violins on the block.'
The long sobbings of autumn violins wound my heart with a monotonous languor.
I wish guns were violins, oboes, clarinets, and trumpets. I wish gunshot were beautiful music that gravitates people instead of frightens them in hiding. I wish combat were meant to fight disasters, diseases, poverty, and hunger. I wish troops were true peacemakers who hold children in their arms and hug elders with smiles everywhere they go, all wearing the peace sign as their emblem. Let me turn my wishes into prayers.
Tis God gives skill, But not without mens hands He could not make Antonio Stradivaris violins Without Antonio.
To me, there is nothing better than me going into the studio with a live band and hearing those violins and that echo and that sound. I mean I loved it.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories