Notes Quotes

Quotes tagged as "notes" Showing 1-30 of 103
Ludwig van Beethoven
“I would rather write 10,000 notes than a single letter of the alphabet.”
Ludwig van Beethoven

“Seven little crazy kids chopping up sticks;
One burnt her daddy up and then there were six.
Six little crazy kids playing with a hive;
One tattooed himself to death and then there were five.
Five little crazy kids on a cellar door;
One went all schizo and then there were four.
Four little crazy kids going out to sea;
One wouldn't say a word and then there were three.
Three little crazy kids walking to the zoo;
One jerked himself too much and then there were two.
Two little crazy kids sitting in the sun;
One a took a bunch of pills and then there was one.
One little crazy kid left all alone;
He went and slit his wrists, and then there were none.”
Michael Thomas Ford, Suicide Notes

Fyodor Dostoyevsky
“Leave us alone without books and we shall be lost and in confusion at once. We shall not know what to join on to, what to cling to, what to love and what to hate, what to respect and what to despise. We are oppressed at being men -- men with a real individual body and blood, we are ashamed of it, we think it a disgrace and try to contrive to be some sort of impossible generalised man. We are stillborn, and for generations past have been begotten, not by living fathers, and that suits us better and better. We are developing a taste for it. Soon we shall contrive to be born somehow from an idea. But enough; I don't want to write more from "Underground.”
Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from Underground, White Nights, The Dream of a Ridiculous Man, and Selections from The House of the Dead

A.L. Kennedy
“Read. As much as you can. As deeply and widely and nourishingly and ­irritatingly as you can. And the good things will make you remember them, so you won't need to take notes.”
A.L. Kennedy

“If life throws you a few bad notes or vibrations, don't let them interrupt or alter your song.”
Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

Dejan Stojanovic
“Be aware of the high notes, of the blissful faces and their soft messages, and listen for the silent message of a highly decorated gift.”
Dejan Stojanovic

Friedrich Nietzsche
“Books and drafts mean something quite different for different thinkers. One collects in a book the lights he was able to steal and carry home swiftly out of the rays of some insight that suddenly dawned on him, while another thinker offers us nothing but shadows - images in black and grey of what had built up in his soul the day before.”
Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science

Hilary McKay
“Darling Daddy,
This is Rose.
The shed needs new wires now it has blown up.
Caddy is bringing home rock-bottom boyfriends to see if they will do for Mummy. Instead of you.
Love, Rose.”
Hilary McKay, Indigo's Star

Karl Lagerfeld
“For me, Chanel is like music. There are certain notes and you have to make another tune with them”
Karl Lagerfeld

“I have notes in my bathroom, yellow notes, and I stick 'em on the mirror, things that happened that were uplifting boosters for me. Notes that say, "Today is special, make today count." And then I have one note on the mirror in the middle that says, "Look at the other notes.”
Burt Bacharach

“Be music always. Keep changing the keys, tones, pitch, and volume of each of the songs you create along your life's journey and play on.”
Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

Hilary McKay
“Darling Daddy,
This is Rose.
So flames went all up the kitchen wall. Saffron called the fire brigade and the police came too to see if it was a trick and the police woman said to Saffron Here You Are Again because of when I got lost having my glasses checked. But I was with Tom whose grandmother is a witch on top of the highest place in town.
Love, Rose.”
Hilary McKay, Indigo's Star

Michael Chabon
“Most science fiction seemed to be written for people who already liked science fiction; I wanted to write stories for anyone, anywhere, living at any time in the history of the world.”
Michael Chabon, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh

Hilary McKay
“Darling Daddy,
This is Rose.
Saffy says everyone says it is Indigo's fault that their Head has two black eyes and a swelled-up nose.
Love from Rose.
P.S. Sarah who is here says to tell you love from wheelchair woman too.

Rose's father telephoned especially to tell Rose not to call Sarah Wheelchair Woman.

"That's what she called herself," protested Rose. "She thought of it! Aren't you worried about what I told you about Indigo and the Head?"

"What?" asked Bill. "Oh that! Two black eyes and a swollen nose! I don't think I can believe that one, Rose darling!”
Hilary McKay, Indigo's Star

John Crowley
“Should he make a note? He felt for the smooth shape of his pen in his pocket. 'Theme for a novel: The contrary pull ... " No. If this notion were real, he needn't make a note. A notion on which a note had to be made would be stillborn anyway, his notebook was a parish register of such, born and dead on the same page. Let it live if it can. ("Novelty")”
John Crowley, American Fantastic Tales: Terror and the Uncanny from the 1940's Until Now

Hilary McKay
“Darling Daddy,
Poor Saffy. She had a big fight in the boys toilets on Monday, did you know? A very big fight and Sarah helped and it was terrifying. Said a boy in my class who has a brother who was there.
Saffy washed her hands and said Never Ever Never Dare You Touch My Brother. (Indigo). And the plug holes were blocked with hair.
Love from Rose.
-Sarah's mother has given us soup. Soup soup soup and then it was all gone.
Hilary McKay, Indigo's Star

“My friend Oscar is one of those princes without kingdom who wander around hoping you'll kiss them so they won't turn into frogs. He gets everything back to front and that's why I like him. People who think they get everything right do things wrong, and this, coming from a left-handed person, says it all. He looks at me and thinks I don't see him. he imagines I'll evaporate if he touches me and if he doesn't touch me, then he'll evaporate. He's got me on such a high pedestal he doesn't know how to get up there. He thinks my lips are door to paradise, but doesn't know they are poisoned. I am such a coward that I don't tell him so as not to lose him. I pretend I don't see him, and that I am, indeed, going to evaporate...
My friend Oscar is one of those princes who would be well advised to stay away from fairy tales and the princesses who inhabit them. He doesn't know he's really Prince Charming who must kiss Sleeping Beauty in order to wake her from her eternal sleep, but that's because Oscar doesn't know that fairy tales are lies, although not all lies are fairy tales. Princes aren't charming, and sleeping beauties, however beautiful, never wake up from their sleep. He's the best friend I've ever had and if I ever come across Merlin, I'll thank him for having placed him in my path.”
-Marina ; Carlos Ruiz Zafón

Caroline B. Cooney
“They ended up at the Old Corner Bookstore, which Brian had read about in a tour guide to Boston. "Longfellow and Hawthorne and Oliver Wendell Holmes used to read here. Let's go in." Brian nudged the girls until they obeyed.

It was a regular bookstore, less history-minded than Brian had expected. In fact, the local history shelves were quite mangeable. I'll buy one book, he thought. This will get me launched in actual reading. Out of the zillions of choices, I'll find one here.

Brian picked out Paul Revere and the World He Lived In. It was thick and somehow exciting, with its chapter headings and scholarly notes and bibliography.”
Caroline B. Cooney

Erica Bauermeister
“Every perfume is made of top, middle, and base notes. Top notes are light, middle notes last longer, base notes last longest. A good perfume has all three, but they have to be in the proper proportions."
The sentences washed over me in a wave of technicalities, but I could feel what she was talking about. It had happened with every scent-paper I'd smelled, the fragrance shifting, telling a story that deepened even as it disappeared. Even nature was that way, if you thought about it- the bright green of the trees giving way to the dark and complicated dirt beneath, the ocean holding the scent of death under all that life.”
Erica Bauermeister, The Scent Keeper

Erica Bauermeister
“It was filled with a dark paste, rather than liquid. I unscrewed the cap. The smell rolled toward me, and I reared back. I could almost hear growling, the pop of a bone socket.
"Civet," Claudia said, unfazed. "It takes a strong stomach to smell an animalic base note straight, don't you think? But a drop or two, down there in the bottom of a perfume? It sends that other message. Death and sex- that's what perfume's all about. You'll understand when you're older."
I stared back at her. I knew about death. I knew about sex. I didn't need her to tell me.
She held out another bottle, her expression bland. "Jasmine."
I was cautious this time, barely sniffing the contents, but the smell was a relief- sweet, white, and creamy, almost euphoric. I felt as if I were floating in it.
Just as I was about to put the bottle down, though, I caught a whiff of something else in the background, something narcotic and sticky. I inhaled more deeply, trying to pin it down.
"You like it," Claudia said. For the first time, she seemed pleased with me. "Do you know what that is, that note you're searching for?"
I shook my head. It was right there, but in that cool, blank room, I couldn't quite name it.
"It's shit," Claudia said. She smiled, slow and lazy. "Technically, the molecule's called indole, but a rose by any other name...”
Erica Bauermeister, The Scent Keeper

Erica Bauermeister
“The missing element couldn't be in the top notes. I figured that out quickly enough. Top notes were the ones that caught your attention, the glittering invitations that led you deeper into a fragrance.
It couldn't be a middle note, either- those warm, round things, full and loving. Taking them out would induce the soft purple of wanting, but that was still too passive. Need lived in base notes. It was the difference between appetite and craving, a bruised heart and a broken one. Base notes were just that, base- subterranean and simmering, dirt and blood, grief and desire and memory.”
Erica Bauermeister, The Scent Keeper

“I like to leave little notes, around as I have traveled. It's like a semi-permanent graffiti for the soul. You know, some words or thoughts for a person's commute home, or the waitress that has been picking up people's sloppy plates all day, maybe even a mom watching her kids play in the park. You never know what is on a person's mind...maybe dread, or hate, or sorrow, or even nothing. I only hope some little thing makes them feel a bit better.”
Owen D Hill

“The best way you can contribute to a better future for humanity is to leave notes for who is coming next.”
Laine Alcantara

Erica Bauermeister
“The fragrance started off bright and happy, fresh-cut grass and sunshine, iced hibiscus tea, the best of a Sunday afternoon. Lavender and rose released their sweetness into the air so serenely you knew there was not a weed within ten yards of them. The scents filtered out through the store, and as Victoria and I watched, the customers began putting down their phones, looking about with greater interest, smiling at one another.
"Well, you certainly made them friendly," Victoria said.
I just smiled.
The fragrance began to deepen. Vanilla, the clarion call of mothers in aprons and after-school cookies warm from the oven. The women's expressions softened.
Your life can be like this, the fragrance said. Your children will love you.
Then, slowly, lazily, in came the scent of jasmine.
Victoria tilted her head. "Hello, troublemaker," she said.
It floated out across the room, heavy and sensual, the essence of beautiful, younger women. Women who birthed children and wore bikinis within a month, or worse yet, never had children at all, their stomachs taut, their breasts ripe. Women who drew the wandering eyes of husbands.
Then, even as the customers began shifting away from each other with polite, nervous smiles, there came another scent, lurking inside the jasmine, where it always waited- a touch of indole. A trail that led you downward, into the dirt.
But not enough- the fragrance was still too sweet. It hovered in the store, off-kilter.
"Hmm," Victoria said, her eyebrows pulling together.
"Wait," I said.
The want of balance was like an ache in the air. The fragrance reached out, searching, begging for completion. It didn't want sweet. It didn't want nice.
And then, out of the skin, the sweat, the very heat of the women's thoughts, came the missing base note. Keen edged as a knife, it rose to meet the sweetness.
As we watched, one of the women picked up a cashmere throw and clutched it to her chest. Another sat down on a leather couch, her arms spread out like a claim jumper. Mine.
"Brilliant," Victoria said, stifling a laugh. "Absolutely brilliant.”
Erica Bauermeister, The Scent Keeper

Erica Bauermeister
“I could smell her perfume, sultry and deep, too loud for such a small space.
"Poison," Victoria said, shooting me a knowing smile.
"What?" Fisher said, turning.
"It's a fragrance, circa 1985," she explained. "It got completely cheapened later, but the vintage stuff is still striking." She paused, sniffing lightly, ticking off scents on her fingers. "Plum, coriander, and opoponax."
"It's a myrrh.”
Erica Bauermeister, The Scent Keeper

Erica Bauermeister
No. 5 Chanel.
I returned to the floor and removed the stopper, inhaling top notes of bergamot, with a sultry middle of jasmine and orris root sliding into base notes of amber and vanilla. It was gorgeous, generous, set off by a series of synthetic, surreal scents, bright as searchlights, precise as expertly manicured fingernails tapping against a table.”
Erica Bauermeister, The Scent Keeper

Liza Palmer
“A good barbecue sauce should be as complex as the bouquet of a fine wine. It should have notes of sweetness, acidity, and a hint of pepperiness.”
Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

Andy Weir
“If it moves but shouldn’t: Duct tape. If it doesn’t move but should: WD-40. These two items cover all of your needs. Everything else in science is secondary.”
Andy Weir

Savannah Storm
“If there should ever come another time, another place; I shall never allow the things of that which I love to become removed, tucked away, forgotten or replaced.”
Savannah Storm, Notes on Background

“Words and images drink the same wine.
There is no purity to protect.”
Marlene Dumas, Sweet Nothings: Notes And Texts

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