Music is nothing else but wild sounds civilized into time and tune.

Music is moonlight in the gloomy night of life.

Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.

It was my 16th birthday - my mom and dad gave me my Goya classical guitar that day. I sat down, wrote this song, and I just knew that that was the only thing I could ever really do - write songs and sing them to people.

But when you get music and words together, that can be a very powerful thing.

Where words fail, music speaks.

Music is the fourth great material want, first food, then clothes, then shelter, then music.

Music happens to be an art form that transcends language.

The wise musicians are those who play what they can master.

When words leave off, music begins.