Nietzsche About Music Novels & Stories

I stutter and he's quiet for a second before he says. "Beethoven was already deaf when he wrote this. Can you imagine being unable to hear your greatest creation?" Nathan's face darkens and I swear it's like his eyes grow darker too. He's looking at nothing in particular in the distance and I feel so detached from him like there's a whole trap between us instead of only a few feet. "It's...I think he still heard it somehow in his head." I begin, " He wouldn't create it the way he did if he could hear. Besides, we all probably hear music differently, so..."

Music is the food of the soul. As MOLART charged at me again, I began to sing, but he still came. I took the risk and did not move. I sang a lovely song I knew and closed my eyes as he jumped at me. But nothing happened for a few seconds. Everywhere was quiet; only my voice was heard in the cave. I opened one of my eyes and saw him standing right before me. I opened both eyes and saw that the fire in his eyes was gone. 'Music is the food of the soul,' the woman's voice repeated in my head, and I could imagine her smiling at me at that moment.

"This permanent sadness in your music." "Probably." "And do you happen to be filled with the joy of living at times?" "Music is the thing that fulfills me the most in the world. I get a lot of pleasure from composing." "What's your inspiration?" "I can see what you're driving at. But no, I don't think of a woman I might have loved in the last when I compose my melodies. I just let the notes come." He gives me an amused smile. I can't help blushing.

Nate had never mentioned playing any instrument, and discovering this part of him sparked a curiosity about how many other pieces of his life I still didn't know. For a moment, a vague memory surfaced—something Wanderer had once said about music, about how he played the piano when he needed to relax. I shook my head quickly, pushing the thought away. It felt unfair to think of another man after a night like the one I'd just had with Nate, especially when I could still feel the warmth of his hands on my skin.

The room was big, really big and only the echo in the room could have projected the extremely silent music that played into the air. Williams Ostergarrd sat quaitly in the dark room, running his fingers weakly on the piano that was seated in front of him. Silent, sad music crawled out from beneath the piano. He stroked the keys so well that he made no mistake to strike any key that could suggest happiness. The music was too sad. It was music from the depths of his soul, from the deep, dark, twisted part of his heart. Only from there he brought out his music, it was consolation for his dampened soul.

Nathan teases her. “I was about to say they’re filled with all sorts of feelings!” Halsey frowns. “What sort of music do you like?” “I like your songs,” Nathan says out loud. Halsey playfully pokes him. “No, seriously! What kinda songs do you like?” “I’m not really that much into songs but if I had to choose…I guess I love the Sex Pistols.” Nathan motions her to sit beside him and when Halsey does so, he puts his arm around her shoulders. She turns beetroot red but Nathan pokes her on the tip of her nose.

And just as I lunged at him with the broom, he swiftly ran away. My nostrils flared with annoyance. "That jerk! A womanizer, an immature brat. He'll pay for this later!" I resumed my cleaning task. I continued sweeping the floor and then proceeded to arrange the books scattered and piled up under the coffee table. Books about music. How to compose a song? The influence of music on poetry. Although the books were outdated, the faded pages hinted at their long history of use. Perhaps they belonged to a master musician or Fiore's ancestors who had resided in this place. These books were meant to inspire and create music that would never be forgotten.

"It's not. Classical music is nice. I just expected you'd blast house music since you love to party a lot." He chuckles. "I wouldn't want to listen to house music all the time. Those kind would be suitable to parties and clubbing." "I didn't know you like boring music." I commented. "It does pretty get boring but piano pieces are sexy to my ears. It has this tingling feeling that gets me all the time." They're sexy to me now because you like them. Whoa, wait. What did I just say?! I shake my head. I nod at him. "Well, I don't get to hear these kind of music anymore these days. I didn't know you were a fan."

Halee asked in a spicy tone. “No, I don’t. I study myself.” I noticed a brief seductive smile on Halee’s face as I rose to my feet. “Thank you for the information about the music track. I’ll d******d it later.” “Music is food for the soul, Pierre. It’s not every time you read, read and study. There’s time for everything, I believe.” “Sure, you’re very correct, Halee….” “Saturday then, please don’t forget.”

"The beginning is further along." Adrian looked at the piano. He thought about this — the musician thinking about what had happened to his composition without the composition being changed. "The context deepens the music," he said. "Yes," Daniel said. "The same notes contain more," he said. "Yes," Daniel said. "Honest materials hold more than you give them." Adrian looked at him. "You're applying the architectural principle to the music," he said. "Yes," Daniel said. "And to life." Adrian was quiet for a moment. Then: "The pasta," he said.