Ella Leya Famous Quotes
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Life is a desert of shifting sand dunes. Unpredictable. Erratic. Harmony changes into dissonance, the immediate outlives the profound, esoteric becomes cliched. And vice versa.
The external evils are nothing compared to the evils that we harbor in our souls.
Leala's breath was "like a cello sawing away against the bouncing-bow contrabasses of her heartbeat.
The music began, passages of immense technical complexity fluidly bridging Caravaggio's chiaroscuro with Renoir's impressionism. The gloom and shadows of claustrophobic chambers contrasting with the vibrant radiance of a wide-open landscape. The realism of humanity down to its dirty nails and rotten wounds combined with the fleeting sanguinity of the moment.
Playing Rachmaninoff was like walking on a rope bridge across a gorge with dreamy skies above and a raging, muddy river below.
How easy to be free. How strong we are when we have nothing to lose.
By the time I turned fifteen, Communism had become my religion.
But the connection between us was in the air, growing stronger with each stroke of his brush and with every cadenza of my piano performance as we struggled to find our unique voices. He by bringing musical tonality to his painting; me by unlocking my inner sluices, letting the palette of emotions spill freely into the art of my music.
Jealousy knows neither morality nor empathy.
The gusty wind Khazri swept through Baku, scouring every crevice, leaving behind air so pristine that it sparkled in the ginger sun like my mama's favorite crystal vase.
Music is not in the notes but in what is between them.
Destiny is a stubborn maiden. She likes herself just the way she is.
That's the power you possess as an artist. To find and express your own unique message.
Once upon a time, when the evil spirit of darkness reigned over the Land of Azerbaijan, hiding the sun inside his underground caves,
When the orphan sky peered at the Caucasus Mountains from the black dome of sorrow,
When the rain shed its tears of ice upon the barren earth…
Something flickered in the distance, dressing the darkness in a soft veil of blue. Out of the blue came an explosion of sounds followed by the seamlessly expressed melancholy of Chopin's "Ballade no. 1.
I desire to know you. Every breath of your heart, every fleeting look on your face, the rhythm of your joys, and the melancholy of your sorrows.
