Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Ernest Bloch

Quote by Ernest Bloch

“Music, too, offers a photograph of the world; characteristically, however, it does this not by copying a few figured sounds but rather by lifting all of the mixed images of extravagance, gushing overflow, and flaming fullness offered by life in its entirety from their immediate objects and weaving them into a carpet—a carpet with its own all-encompassing intensity, quality, and therefore reality.”

Quote by Ernest Bloch

Create image

Author

Ernest Bloch

Browse famous quotes and profile details for Ernest Bloch. more

You May Also Like

“This is something new from England, an opera called the 'Bohemian Girl.' I'll play the air through once and then you sing it. Oh, yes, you can; it's very easy." So Miranda stood beside him and sang, "I Dreamt that I Dwelt in Marble Halls." And when her first self-consciousness wore off she thrilled to the singular appropriateness of the words. Had he guessed her dreams and was that why he had picked this music? But the song was about love as well, and her voice wavered as she thought, Love there can never be for me in these marble halls- this is then not my dream, how could it be?”

MusicSong Of LoveHarpsicord
Book:Dragonwyck
Create image

“Drew is the opening song on my favorite album. He’s the song that everyone loves, the song that draws me in and makes me want to listen to the whole album without stopping. He’s the catchy song with the great hook, fancy guitar solo, and soaring vocals. But Shane … Shane’s the hidden track. He’s the song I don’t listen to until I’ve devoured the whole album. He’s that quiet song with the unbelievable melody. The song that makes me understand myself a bit better. Once I discover a truly special hidden track, I never get sick of it.”

LoveRomanceRelationshipsMusicFavorite SongAlbumFavorite AlbumHidden TrackJennie WexlerWhere It All Lands
Book:Where It All Lands
Create image

“Le mal du pays.” The quiet, melancholy music gradually gave shape to the undefined sadness enveloping his heart, as if countless microscopic bits of pollen adhered to an invisible being concealed in the air, ultimately revealing, slowly and silently, its shape. This time the being took on the shape of Sara—Sara in her mint-green short-sleeved dress. The ache in his heart returned. Not an intense pain, but the memory of intense pain. What did you expect? Tsukuru asked himself. A basically empty vessel has become empty once again. Who can you complain to about that? People come to him, discover how empty he is, and leave. What’s left is an empty, perhaps even emptier, Tsukuru Tazaki, all alone. Isn’t that all there is to it?”

MusicEmptiness
Book:Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
Create image