A Quote by Donna Lynne Champlin

Since I play piano, I can play the right hand on the accordion, no problemo. It's the left hand with the buttons that makes me crazy. — © Donna Lynne Champlin
Since I play piano, I can play the right hand on the accordion, no problemo. It's the left hand with the buttons that makes me crazy.
When you play piano, your left hand and right hand are synced. Your brain basically has a clock, so that the right hand knows that 0.3 seconds after I hit this key, I need to hit that one. And the right hand knows not to hit keys that the left hand is playing, so the hands do not collide.
When I was a little bitty kid, my aunt showed me how to play a little boogie. It took me years. I had to play the left-hand part with two hands, because my hands was so little. Then as I grew up and I learned how to play the left-hand part with one hand, she showed me how to play the right-hand part, and et cetera. My Uncle Joe showed me how to play a little bit different boogie stuff. I had people in my family that was professional musicians, but I just wasn't interested in what they did. I wasn't very open-minded to a lot of music that I'd be more open to today.
He wanted to play accordion on something of mine and I said you can play accordion, but I want you to play piano and organ on some stuff. He came over a couple times a week for two weeks and gave me therapy as to whether I should do The Thorns or not.
My left hand is my thinking hand. The right is only a motor hand. This holds the hammer. The left hand, the thinking hand, must be relaxed, sensitive. The rhythms of thought pass through the fingers and grip of this hand into the stone.
There are times I'm approaching turns with my right hand on the brake lever, I'm downshifting with my fingers, I'm controlling the throttle with my left hand and steering into the corner with only one hand on the wheel. I feel a bit like Jimi Hendrix: I play with both my hands.
I wish I could play the piano. I started when I was four and finished when I was five. I got bored. I couldn't tell my left hand from my right back then!
If you play the guitar, you've got to hold the chords down with one hand while you play with the other, so you're limited to one hand. But the piano is the king of instruments because you have your 10 fingers, which become the 10 members of the orchestra.
I have never been able to write with anything more than the left hand of my mind; the right hand has always been engaged in something to do with personal relationships. I don't complain, because I think my left hand's power, as much as it has, is due to its knowledge of what my right hand is doing.
I play citified Count Basie piano. As few notes as possible, my left hand in my pocket, that kind of stuff.
Good work and joyous play go hand in hand. When play stops, old age begins. Play keeps you from taking life too seriously.
My left hand is my thinking hand (image), my right hand my doing hand (sequence).
I was born left-handed, but I was made to use my other hand. When I was writing 'Famished Road,' which was very long, I got repetitive stress syndrome. My right wrist collapsed, so I started using my left hand. The prose I wrote with my left hand came out denser, so later on I had to change it.
I have damaged nerve endings on the right side, so my piano style comes from designing stuff I can play with my right hand. And some of it effectively mimics classical stuff.
You gotta play the hand that's dealt you. There may be pain in that hand, but you play it. And I've played it.
...I remain restless and dissatisfied; what I knot with my right hand, I undo with my left, what my left hand creates, my right fist shatters
I always pet a dog with my left hand because if he bit me I'd still have my right hand to paint with.
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