Music is the pleasure the human mind experiences from counting without being aware that it is counting.
When I was in Utah there, first learning the kind of music I love, my favorite singer was T. Texas Tyler. So my friend, Norman Ritchie, the traveling teenage sage, started calling me U. Utah Phillips.
Poetry fettered, fetters the human race. Nations are destroyed or flourish in proportion as their poetry, painting, and music are destroyed or flourish.
Music is the movement of sound to reach the soul for the education of its virtue.
Music is the only language in which you cannot say a mean or sarcastic thing.
I call architecture frozen music.
I find in my poetry and prose the rhythms and imagery of the best – I mean, when I’m at my best – of the good Southern black preachers. The lyricism of the spirituals and the directness of gospel songs and the mystery of blues are in my music or in my poetry and prose, or I missed everything.
Those who seek to satisfy the mind of man by hampering it with ceremonies and music and affecting charity and devotion have lost their original nature.
Every man’s work, whether it be literature, or music or pictures or architecture or anything else, is always a portrait of himself.
Music is the refuge of souls ulcerated by happiness.