"Counterpoint" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... touching are its effects! In studying music as a mere matter of intellectual science, all is simple; it is only an easy chapter in acoustics. But in studying it on the side of the emotions, in studying the laws of counterpoint and of musical form, which are governed by the effect upon the ear and the heart, we find intricacy and difficulties, increased beyond our power ...
— Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 30, April, 1860 • Various
... happy kind; he draws—I mean he scores like an amateur who has not made a very profound study of harmony, and sings his pretty song to his simple accompaniment with so sweet and true a natural voice that we are charmed. It is the magic of nature, whereas Keene is a very Sebastian Bach in his counterpoint. There is nothing of the amateur about him; his knowledge of harmony in black and white is complete and thorough; mere consummate scoring has become to him a second nature; each separate note of his voice reveals the long ...
— Social Pictorial Satire • George du Maurier
... Major, 2/2 time. Graf Graf Graf Graf (in 3-part harmony) Graf (in 3-part counterpoint) Graf Graf Graf, liebster Graf, liebstes Schaf, bester Graf, bestes ...
— Beethoven's Letters 1790-1826, Volume 1 of 2 • Lady Wallace
... which, we imagine, can only be attained by dint of study, and knowledge of the system and theory upon which musical composition is founded. Such miserable jargon as our country psalm-singers practise, which may be justly deemed the lowest class of counterpoint, or singing in several parts, cannot be acquired, in the coarse manner in which it is performed in the churches, without considerable time and practice. It is therefore scarcely credible, that a people, semi-barbarous, ...
— A General History and Collection of Voyages and Travels, Volume 17 • Robert Kerr
... the woodland fragrances of which the air was full, and the sense of being intimately alone with her, set up within him a turbulent vibration, half of delight, half of pained suspense. And the complaisant informality with which she met him played a sustaining counterpoint. 'What luck, what luck, what luck,' were the words which shaped themselves to the strong beating of his pulses. What would happen next? Whither would it lead? He had savoured the bouquet, he was famished to taste the wine. And yet, so complicated are our human feelings, he was obscurely vexed. ...
— Grey Roses • Henry Harland |
