“The music throbbed in a voice of singular and delicate power; the air was resonant with melody, love and pain. The meanest Italian in the gallery far up beneath the ceiling, the most exalted of the land in the boxes and the stalls, leaned indulgently forward, to be swept by this sweet storm of song.” BookPainSongVoiceAirLandSweetBoxesStormMelodyItalianDelicateCeilingsGalleryExaltedLove And Pain Book:The Judgment House (Volume 1 of 2 ) (EasyRead Super Large 18pt Edition) Source: The Judgment House (Volume 1 of 2 ) (EasyRead Super Large 18pt Edition)
“My mother wanted me to learn how to read music. She'd given fiddles to my two older brothers, but they'd rebelled. I came along and my father said, "Oh, let Peter enjoy himself." What she did was leave musical instruments all around the house. Whistles, marimbas, squeeze boxes, a piano and organ. By age six or seven, I could bang out a simple tune on almost anything. I developed a good ear, so I didn't learn to read music until I taught myself at age eighteen, 'cause I was hearing so many good songs I couldn't possibly remember them all.” SaidTwoAgeWantedRememberMotherSongFatherHouseGivenCausesEnjoySimpleTaughtBrotherSixEarsInstrumentsSevenMusicalBoxesHearingPianoTunesPeterOrgansBangsEighteenFiddleOlder BrotherMusical Instruments Author:Pete Seeger
“I thought of my father's wisdom, as though it were buried in a box under a tree. As in the old song - a gold box with a silver pin. Some day I should be grown up, and I should dig up the box and turn the pin.” ShouldSongTurnsFatherTreeGoldBoxesSilverBuriedAdulthoodPinsOld Song Author:Mary Butts