The art of singing, its theory and practice

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Page 68 - What is it then? I will pray with the spirit, and I will pray with the understanding also : I will sing with the spirit, and I will sing with the understanding also.
Page 134 - Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is, When time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives.
Page 127 - Music is one of the fairest and most glorious gifts of God, to which Satan is a bitter enemy; for it removes from the heart the weight of sorrows and the fascination of evil thoughts.
Page 6 - A project is more specific as to what is to be done, who is to do it, when and where it is to be done, and how it is to be done than a plan.
Page 120 - Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it as you go On the light fantastic toe...
Page 156 - Particularly the most elevated sensation of music arises from a confused perception of ideal or visionary beauty and rapture, which is sufficiently perceivable to fire the imagination, but not clear enough to become an object of knowledge. This shadowy beauty the mind attempts, with a languishing curiosity, to collect into a distinct object of view and comprehension ; but it sinks and...
Page 32 - Timotheus, at his first public performance, in order to astonish his hearers, began his solo with so violent a blast, that he breathed his last breath into his flute, and died upon the spot (q).
Page 103 - These serve to give the mind a contrary determination and prevent it from sinking into that delicious languor, which it is the sovereign art of the Italian school to produce. The genius of the Italian language, of its poetry and its music, is principally calculated to excite the gentler passions. The frequent recurrence of soft syllables, the sweetness of the passages, and the lubricity with which a true Italian singer glides through melody, melt us at once into a dream of pity or of love. Thus then...
Page 116 - The God of shepheards, Tityrus, is dead, Who taught me homely, as I can, to make...
Page 122 - Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain, "You have wak'd me too soon, I must slumber again." As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed, Turns his sides and his shoulders and his heavy head. "A little more sleep, and a little more slumber...

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