I stole everything I ever heard, but mostly I stole from the horns.
... the devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you've ever wished for ...
Music is your own experience, your own thoughts, your wisdom. If you don't live it, it won't come out of your horn. They teach you there's a boundary line to music. But, man, there's no boundary line to art.
From fear of the unknown, both horns and wings have grown.
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
I'd rather play a tune on a horn, but I've always felt that I didn't want to train myself. Because when you get a train, you've got to have an engine and a caboose. I think it's better to train the caboose. You train yourself, you strain yourself.
Talk of the devil, and his horns appear.
You slam a politician, you make out he's the devil, with horns and hoofs. But his wife loves him, and so did all his mistresses.
Everyone is given one gift, a reason for being, and it's our obligation to do something with it.
Mainly I was able to perform with music - I played the French horn, I would sing, and I was a drummer in the pipe band. So I think it was a way to show off.
Get someone else to blow your horn and the sound will carry twice as far.
One bites into the brass mouthpiece of his wooden cudgel, and the other blows his cheeks out on a French horn. Do you call that Art?
I enjoy singing, and the instruments which truly move me are the horn, the trumpet and the cello.
You just let your lower self go, and then it takes on all these aspects of the society - the city with horns blowing, the people yelling things at each other, and the all-in-all violence and chaos of the city. Put that on stage with music, and that's what this is.
I always felt as a horn player, a jam session wasn't satisfying enough for me. I should have been a rhythm section player, actually.
I wish I could score everything for horns.
I wake up in the morning, I do a little stretching exercises, pick up the horn and play.
If you've only got one horn playing, I still want the sense of ensemble.
The horns came riding in like the rainbow masts of silver ships.
My solution to the problem would be to tell the North Vietnamese Communists frankly that they've got to drawn in their horns and stop their aggression or we're going to bomb them into the stone age.
Not only the bull attacks his enemies with curved horn, but also the sheep, when harmed fights back.
Life is a constant oscillation between the sharp horns of dilemmas.
As a horn player, the greatest compliment one can get is when a person comes to you and says, 'I heard this saxophone on the radio the other day and I knew it was you. I don't know the song, but I know it was you on sax.'
I don't think it's blowing my own horn to say the show is not as good. There was chemistry there that took years and years to build and now that's gone. The commentary is lacking.
And for me the only way to live life is to grab the bull by the horns and call up recording studios and set dates to go in recording studios. To try and accomplish something.
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