Quotessence
Home / Topics / Opera Quotes

Opera Quotes

Browse 777 quotes about Opera.

Related topics

SoapSoap OperasPeopleSingersIfsThinkingOpera SingersKnowsSingingHouseFirstsWantWayYearsWorldArtOpera HousePlayVoiceFilmRocksStoriesKindSongCharacterFunnyMusicalRealWritingMenShowsWantedWellsDifferentHas BeensTheaterIdeasMusicStillsTwoTheatreTvsUsedYoungBeautifulComposerDramaFormI CanItalianLittlesMadeTryingBalletBigsChildrenListeningLongLooksNightShouldWagnerAudienceEnoughImportantMusicianNeedsSoundStageStarsActingBookClassical MusicConcertsMeanPerformancesStuffTelevisionWould BeEndsFeelsGamesHardHumorousMotherOpera SingingSaidSpaceDoeDoneEnjoyHomeMayModernNovelOrchestraPersonsSeemsThreeTogethermore

Opera Quotes

“Of course, opera has plot – and I was already anticipating all those unknown stories I was about to discover – but its main function is to deliver the characters as swiftly as possible to the point where thet can sing of their deepest emotions. Opera cuts to the chase – as death does. So now, contented indifference before Middlesbrough against Slovan Bratislava coexisted with a craving for an art in which violent, overwhelming, hysterical and destructive emotion was the norme; an art which seeks, more obviously than any other form, to break your heart.”

LossEmotionPlotOpera
Book:Levels of Life
Create image

“You want to feel that you belong to something higher, to something even beyond this universe, then go to the opera!”

ArtHigherMehmet Murat Ildan QuotesOperaTurkish LiteratureTurkish QuotesTurkish WritersMehmet Murat Ildan QuotationsIldan Wise SayingsTurkish Wisdom WordsTurkish PlaywrightsTurkish QuotationsTurkish AuthorsIldan WisdomIldan WordsFeelTurkish AphorismsTurkish SayingsTurkish ThinkersArt QuotesArt QuotationsOpera QuotesOpera Music
Author:Mehmet Murat Ildan
Create image

“In the freezing darkness, the voices and the music alone wrapped the audience in beauty, emotion, and fantasy. The singing soothed, stirred, and seduced until you were madly in love, and became addicted. That was opera in its purest, most sincere form.”

ArtInspirationOpera
Book:Life In Opera: Truth, Tempo and Soul: Encounters with Stars, Innovators and Leaders of Today's Opera World
Create image

“Theatres are curious places, magician's trick-boxes where the golden memories of dramtic triumphs linger like nostalgic ghosts, and where the unexplainable, the fantastic, the tragic, the comic and the absurd are routine occurences on and off the stage. Murders, mayhem, politcal intrigue, lucrative business, secret assignations, and of course, dinner.”

HumorFunnyActorsPoliticsActingFoodDramaMurderTheaterDinnerTheatreNostalgiaFantasticDramaticSatireSecretsOperaMysteriesPlaysOpera HouseTheatre Of The AbsurdPlaywrightsI Love The TheaterI Love The Theatre
Book:Brushstrokes of a Gadfly
Create image

“That´s the problem with planning a late night supper after the opera, not only does the hero or the heroine die singing, but you end up famished after the last notes of the finale.”

LifeHumorFunnyMusicFoodHumourSingingHumorousTheaterDinnerTheatreSingersLife And DeathOperaSupperFinaleOpera SingersArts And HumanitiesTheatre Of The AbsurdLate NightsFinalesOperasLate Night SupperPrima DonnaWhen Plans Go Wrong
Book:Brushstrokes of a Gadfly
Create image

“Opera has the power to warn you that you have wasted your life. You haven't acted on your desires. You've suffered a stunted, vicarious existence. You've silenced your passions. The volume, height, depth, lushness, and excess of operatic utterance reveal, by contrast, how small your gestures have been until now, how impoverished your physicality; you have only used a fraction of your bodily endowment, and your throat is closed.”

SongExpressionThroatOperaEnormity
Book:The Queen's Throat: Opera, Homosexuality and the Mystery of Desire
Create image

“At some point the listener will lose track of the words altogether and it is then—especially when a single note is held for an impossibly long time, until finally there is a break just before the end, when the singer gasps silently for breath—that Poizat says people start to cry. Listeners sense that the singer’s voice had almost broken free of language, and at the same time they know that the voice can never break out of language. After the soprano catches her breath and sings the tonic note, the opera goes on in ordinary human language. Poizat thinks only angels can sing and still not make sense; if human singers could actually move outside of language the result would be a wild scream ing, something dangerously close to insanity. According to Poizat, all true opera lovers feel this, even if it’s unconscious, and all true opera lovers cry. Ordinary pole-faced opera fans do not understand that when the coloratura sings, it’s not a human voice they are hearing, but “the angel’s cry.”

TearsOperaElkinsjamesPaintingsandtears
Author:Elkins James
Create image

“Poizat says opera lovers cry because they dimly sense that singing is an attempt to escape from words. Language is like a prison house, he thinks, and the singing voice is like a dove trapped inside: the voice wants to float free, without having to mean anything. In every great aria, Poizat observes, there is a moment when the voice—especially a woman’s voice, especially a soprano— begins to do amazing things, warbling and trilling, flying up to impossibly high pitches, falling through cascades of arpeggios and grace notes. The words that are sung are under incredible tension: a single syllable can be pulled and stretched so that it seems to go on forever.”

TearsOperaElkinsjamesPaintingsandtears
Author:Elkins James
Create image

“Opera was born in Florence at the end of the sixteenth century. It derived almost seamlessly from its immediate precursor, the intermedio, or lavish between-the-acts spectacle presented in conjunction with a play on festive occasions. Plays were spoken, and their stage settings were simple: a street backed by palace facades for tragedies, by lower-class houses for comedies; for satyr plays or pastorals, the setting was a woodland or country scene. Meanwhile the ever-growing magnificence of state celebrations in Medici Florence on occasions such as dynastic weddings gave rise to a variety of spectacles involving exuberant scenic displays: naval battles in the flooded courtyard of the Pitti Palace, tournaments in the squares, triumphal entries into the city. These all called upon the services of architects, machinists, costume designers, instrumental and vocal artists. Such visual and aural delights also found their way into the theater—not in plays, with their traditional, sober settings, but between the acts of plays. Intermedi had everything the plays had not: miraculous transformations of scenery, flying creatures (both natural and supernatural), dancing, singing. The plays satisfied Renaissance intellects imbued with classical culture; the intermedi fed the new Baroque craving for the marvelous, the incredible, the impossible. By all accounts, no Medici festivities were as grand and lavish as those held through much of the month of May 1589 in conjunction with the marriage of Grand Duke Ferdinand I and Christine of Lorraine. The intermedi produced between the acts of a comedy on the evening of May 2 were considered to be the highlight of the entire occasion and were repeated, with different plays, on May 6 and 13. Nearly all the main figures we will read about in connection with the birth of opera took part in the extravagant production, which was many months in the making: Emilio de' Cavalieri acted as intermediary between the court and the theater besides being responsible for the actors and musicians and composing some of the music; Giovanni Bardi conceived the scenarios for the six intermedi and saw to it that his highly allegorical allusions were made clear in the realization. Jacopo Peri and Giulio Caccini were among the featured singers, as was the madrigal composer Luca Marenzio, who wrote the music for Intermedio 3, described below. The poet responsible for the musical texts, finally, was Ottavio Rinuccini, who wrote the poetry for the earliest operas...”

OperaItalyFlorenceMediciFirenze
Book:Opera: A History in Documents
Create image

“Having considered Handel's tumultuous opera career and his first term at Covent Garden in the 1730s, perhaps we may dare to suggest he was one of the foremost pioneers in establishing autonomy within the traditional system of music patronage, notwithstanding his efforts to become an independent impressario often proved disappointing.”

OperaClassical MusicHandelCovent GardenComposersImpressarioMusic Patronage
Book:Handel's Path to Covent Garden
Create image

“Handel's yearning for independence from the traditional chains of patronage and his persistence in monitoring his productions resulted with unique developments concerning Baroque 'opera seria'; however, paradoxically his personal obsession to obtain complete artistic freedom generated disastrous side-effects that eventually impeded the progress of opera in London.”

MusicLondonOperaClassical MusicPatronageHandelArtistic FreedomCovent GardenComposersOpera Seria
Book:Handel's Path to Covent Garden
Create image

“He wanted Jo for his heroine, and called upon his memory to supply him with tender recollections and romantic visions of his love. But memory turned traitor, and as if possessed by the perverse spirit of the girl, would only recall Jo's oddities, faults, and freaks, would only show her in the most unsentimental aspects – beating mats with her head tied up in a bandana, barricading herself with the sofa pillow, or throwing cold water over his passion a la Gummidge – and an irresistable laugh spoiled the pensive picture he was endeavoring to paint. Jo wouldn't be put into the opera at any price, and he had to give her up with a 'Bless that girl, what a torment she is!' (...)”

OperaLaurie
Book:Little Women
Create image

“He quickly observed, that good sentences and excellent representations of the follies of mankind met with little regard or applause, whilst sounds, without sense, threw every body into raptures:——but 'twas the fashion of the day to be musically mad, and those who were absurd enough to prefer a rational entertainment to a flimsy opera, were poor insipid beings, without taste or enthusiasm.”

MusicSocietyEntertainmentTheatreOperaUpper Class
Book:Errors of Education
Create image

“Aquella noche fue por primera vez a la ópera; con gran sorpresa descubrió que cantaban en italiano y, como no entendía una sola palabra, supuso que toda la representación era una especie de servicio religioso. Deambuló a altas horas de la noche hasta los iluminados chapiteles de San Esteban; la torre sur de la catedral, leyó en una placa, se había iniciado a mediados del siglo XIV y concluido en 1439. Viena, pensó Garp, era un cadáver; posiblemente toda Europa era un cadáver ataviado en un ataúd abierto.”

EuropeOperaViennaCathedral
Book:The world according to Garp
Create image

“Nichts lieben die Deutschen so von ganzem Herzen wie die Oper. Sie werden durch Gewohnheit und Erziehung dahin geleitet. Auch wir Amerikaner können es ohne Zweifel eines Tages noch zu solcher Liebe bringen. Bis jetzt findet aber vielleicht unter fünfzig Besuchern der Oper einer wirklich Gefallen daran; von den übrigen neunundvierzig gehen viele, glaube ich, hin, weil sie sich daran gewöhnen möchten, und die andern, um mit Sachkenntnis davon reden zu können. Letztere summen gewöhnlich die Melodien vor sich hin, während sie auf der Bühne gesungen werden, um ihren Nachbarn zu zeigen, daß sie nicht zum erstenmal in der Oper sind. Sie verdienten dafür gehängt zu werden.”

OperaMark TwainTwainOper
Book:Meistererzählungen
Create image

“it is sufficient to say, that a chorus of work, the whole of my past life - but, as if recalled by an act of memory, but as if present and incarnated in the music: no longer painful to dwell upon: but the detail of it's incidents removed, or blended in some hazy abstraction; and its passions exalted, spiritualized, and sublimed. All this was to be had for five shillings.”

ComfortableOperaNumbEscapismPleasuresMusical TasteSex And Drugs And Rock And RollMusic And Drugs
Book:The Confessions of an English Opium-Eater and Other Writings
Create image

“For all his claims to be just a propagandist, [Bernard Shaw's] writing has an effect nearer to that of music than most of those who have claimed to be writing "dramas of feeling." His plays are a joy to watch, not because they purport to deal with social and political problems, but because they are such wonderful displays of conspicuous waste; the conversational energy displayed by his characters is so far in excess of what their situation requires that, if it were to be devoted to practical action, it would wreck the world in five minutes. The Mozart of English letters he is not – the music of the Marble Statue is beyond him – the Rossini, yes. He has all the brio, humor, cruel clarity and virtuosity of that master of opera buffa.”

MusicOperaMozartRossiniShaw
Book:The Dyer's Hand and Other Essays
Create image

“Chicago, Illinois 1896 Opening Night Wearing her Brünnhilda costume, complete with padding, breastplate, helm, and false blond braids, and holding a spear as if it were a staff, Sophia Maxwell waited in the wings of the Canfield-Pendegast theatre. The bright stage lighting made it difficult to see the audience filling the seats for opening night of Die Walküre, but she could feel their anticipation build as the time drew near for the appearance of the Songbird of Chicago. She took slow deep breaths, inhaling the smell of the greasepaint she wore on her face. Part of her listened to the music for her cue, and the other part immersed herself in the role of the god Wotan’s favorite daughter. From long practice, Sophia tried to ignore quivers of nervousness. Never before had stage fright made her feel ill. Usually she couldn’t wait to make her appearance. Now, however, nausea churned in her stomach, timpani banged pain-throbs through her head, her muscles ached, and heat made beads of persperation break out on her brow. I feel more like a plucked chicken than a songbird, but I will not let my audience down. Annoyed with herself, Sophia reached for a towel held by her dresser, Nan, standing at her side. She lifted the helm and blotted her forehead, careful not to streak the greasepaint. Nan tisked and pulled out a small brush and a tin of powder from one of the caprious pockets of her apron. She dipped the brush into the powder and wisked it across Sophia’s forehead. “You’re too pale. You need more rouge.” “No time.” A rhythmic sword motif sounded the prelude to Act ll. Sophia pivoted away from Nan and moved to the edge of the wing, looking out to the scene of a rocky mountain pass. Soon the warrior-maiden Brünnhilda would make an appearance with her famous battle cry. She allowed the anticpaptory energy of the audience to fill her body. The trills of the high strings and upward rushing passes in the woodwinds introduced Brünnhilda. Right on cue, Sophia made her entrance and struck a pose. She took a deep breath, preparing to hit the opening notes of her battle call. But as she opened her mouth to sing, nothing came out. Caught off guard, Sophia cleared her throat and tried again. Nothing. Horrified, she glanced around, as if seeking help, her body hot and shaky with shame. Across the stage in the wings, Sophia could see Judith Deal, her understudy and rival, watching. The other singer was clad in a similar costume to Sophia’s for her role as the valkerie Gerhilde. A triumphant expression crossed her face. Warwick Canfield-Pendegast, owner of the theatre, stood next to Judith, his face contorted in fury. He clenched his chubby hands. A wave of dizziness swept through Sophia. The stage lights dimmed. Her knees buckled. As she crumpled to the ground, one final thought followed her into the darkness. I’ve just lost my position as prima dona of the Canfield-Pendegast Opera Company.”

OperaHistorical RomanceSweet RomanceClean RomanceLumberjack
Book:Singing Montana Sky
Create image

“Well, then, mademoiselle, shall I take you to the Riviera?'" "'Yes,'" -Camille smiled- "'I'd like that.' 'Have you brought your bathing suit?' he'd ask. 'Perfect. And an evening gown as well! We must go to the casino. Don't forget your silver fox coat, it can be cool in Monte Carlo in the evening.' There was a nice smell inside the car. The smell of well-worn leather... It was all so lovely, I remember. The crystal ashtray, the vanity mirror, the tiny little handle to roll the window down, the inside of the glove compartment, the wood. Its was like a flying carpet. 'With a bit of luck we'll get there before nightfall,' he promised. Yes, he was that kind of man, my dad, a big dreamer who could shift gears on a car up on blocks for hours on end and take me to the far corners of the earth in a suburban garage. He was really into opera, too, so wee listened to Don Carlos, La Traviata or The Marriage of Figaro during the trip. He would tell me the stories: Madame Butterfly's sorrow, the impossible love of Pelléas and Mélisande- when he confesses, 'I have something to tell you' and then he can't; the stories with the countess and her Cherub who hides all the time, or Alcina, the beautiful witch who turned her suitors into wild animals.”

OperaReminiscingFather Daughter Bond
Book:Hunting and Gathering
Create image

“He appears close to my age. The left half of his face stands out beneath the hood: one side of plump lips, one squared angle of a chin. Two coppery-colored eyes look back at me – bright and metallic. The sight makes me do a double take. As far as he is from the car, I shouldn’t be able to make out the color, yet they glimmer in the shadow of his cape, like pennies catching a flashlight’s glare in a deep well.”

OperaUrban FantasyPhantom Of The OperaPsychic VampiresFractured Retelling
Book:RoseBlood
Create image