Tchaikovsky Quotes

“أيّها الموت أيّها المارد الشرّير يا لعنة الزّمان العنيد

كيف ترضى يداك أن تقتل الإلهام ؟
ماذا تركته للوجود ؟

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سوف تفنى يداك أنت ويبقى ظلّ ذاك الطير الجميل الوديع

سوف تبقى نجواه تخفق فوق الأرض بالحبّ والجنال الرفيع

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أيّها الحاقد الترابيّ أمّاأنت فاحقد وعش على الأضغان

إنّه الآن فوق حقدك فوق الأرض , فوق الفناء والنسيان”
― نازك الملائكة, المختار من شعر نازك الملائكة

“NONE BUT THE LONELY HEART
(based on a poem by J.W. von Goethe)

None but the lonely heart
Can know my sadness
Alone and parted
Far from joy and gladness
Heaven's boundless arch I see
Spread about above me
O what a distance dear to one
Who loves me
None but the lonely heart
Can know my sadness
Alone and parted
Far from joy and gladness
Alone and parted far
From joy and gladness
My senses fail
A burning fire
Devours me
None but the lonely heart
Can know my sadness”
― Pyotr Tchaikovsky

“The entire time Tchaikovsky was composing 'The Nutcracker,' Madame Sylvie told Dara once, he was mourning his beloved sister Sasha. He reanimated her through Clara. It explained the strange heaviness of the ballet, its grand melancholy, its piercing nostalgia. And the deathlessness of its vision of childhood, of innocence and escape. Our almost unbearable awareness that everything we're seeing is disappearing even as we watch, fluttering past us as the dancers do, slipping away like smoke.

Every year, when the grand -pas de deux- -- the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Prince--begins, the audience's eyes fill with tears. Those shimmering sound of the celesta, like bells clear and pure, and we are flung backward. Time is conquered for a brief, luminous moment. Dara remembered one parent telling her that prayers from the Russian funeral mass were hidden in its opening bars. -We don't hear it-, he told her. -But we feel it nonetheless.-”
― Megan Abbott, The Turnout

“Do you perambulate at dawn?
The acacia on your right and the jacaranda on the road down the lane.

Mornings in Kathmandu are symphonies.
Tchaikovsky on a Monday, and Beethoven on a Saturday.

What voices speak to you?
Some days I hear the ghosts of extinct bees, and some days I hear the spirits of butterflies.

Today morning I read fragments from the writings of Kafka. Have you read the writings of Kierkegaard?”
― Avijeet Das

“There's no a bar o the rale Tschaikowsky music that hasna as muckle meanin in't as a story by Annie S. Swan.”
― Neil Munro, Erchie, My Droll Friend

“Tchaikovsky would grate into music, leak out like an ointment from the long day’s captivity. At night neighbors heard the grating nonstop ballet inveigle into dance these three tenants; either they moved to Russian music or they sat before each other, numbed and apologetic.”
― Wilfrido D. Nolledo, But for the Lovers