opera

For the love of God, unless you__e prepping for Rigoletto at the Met, go easy on the eyeliner.

Poetry, Shakespeare and opera, are like mumps and should be caught when young. In the unhappy event that there is a postponement to mature years, the results may be devastating.

None of us can choose where we shall love...

Wagner thought Rossini unserious; Rossini thought Wagner 'lacked sun'. Wagner also became the butt of a phrase Rossini had used down the years to describe musicians about whom he had certain reservations - "He has some beautiful moments but some bad quarters of an hour!

If you would dance, my pretty Count, I'll play the tune on my little guitar..

Anna's voice wasn't a beautiful voice - rough edged and sorrowful, a bit used, somehow male and female at once. Yet it had more vibrancy to it than most Danish voices, which were often thin and white and too pretty to trigger a shiver. Anna's voice had the heat of the south; it warmed Einar, as if her throat were red with coals.

The Phantom is not famous for forgiveness.

Without Puccini, there is no opera; without opera, the world is an even drearier place than the evening news would have us think.

Behind every wall and every mirror and every vent, I hear sounds: breathing, rustling, footsteps, and murmurs. I try to tell myself it__ just mice making their nests behind the barriers, but since when do rodents whisper?

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:___ut '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.

Opera lovers may be the narrowest people in the world.

It's in my genes. My mother was an opera singer. I'm clearly dramatic.

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation. Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music of the night.

To be happy to be sad and sad to be happy is to sing an echo in that beautiful language called Sorrow.

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

You are born an artist or you are not. And you stay an artist, dear, even if your voice is less of a fireworks. The artist is always there.

Opera is when a guy gets stabbed in the back and, instead of bleeding, he sings.

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.