A Quote by Emanuel Ax

If there were no rules about when to applaud, we in the audience would have the right response almost always. — © Emanuel Ax
If there were no rules about when to applaud, we in the audience would have the right response almost always.
As you interact with others, remember this: anytime a person's response is larger than the issue at hand, the response is almost always about something else.
I prefer that for my own satisfaction over radio, there's no audience. TV, there's no audience. I need the response of the audience, even if it's a silent response.
Which implies that the real issue in art is the audience's response. Now I claim that when I make things, I don't care about the audience's response, I'm making them for myself. But I'm making them for myself as audience, because I want to wake myself up.
Those of you who speak only English, applaud [audience applause]. Those of you who speak only Spanish, applaud [audience applause]. [In mock incredulity] Then how do you know what I just said?
I always say that you could publish trading rules in the newspaper and no one would follow them. The key is consistency and discipline. Almost anybody can make up a list of rules that are 80 percent as good as what we taught people. What they couldn’t do is give them the confidence to stick to those rules even when things are going bad.
See, there were certain rules I'd always used, and people like Trane, they would break those rules.
The music is something outside myself that's also inside myself... Music and a sense of another presence always went hand in hand. Even when I was three, I would improvise music, and my maternal grandfather would act as an audience and used to applaud. I would imitate things like thunder and rain.
Blaming speculators as a response to financial crisis goes back at least to the Greeks. It's almost always the wrong response.
Christian values were important at home. Cleanliness. Don't steal. Don't lie. Those were the rules, and they were strictly enforced. Especially the stealing and lying. When you broke the rules, you got a beating. I always broke the rules a lot.
Panic! at the Disco, for me, has been an outlet to do whatever. I never felt like there were any rules. It was always carte blanche. I could do whatever I wanted. There were no rules set yet for the band. It just felt right.
I'm sure my father would applaud the explosion of youth activism that has emerged in response to the gun violence pandemic. I'm certain my parents would agree it is gratifying to see young people leading social change projects in a multiracial coalition.
There were rules in the monastery, but the Master always warned against the tyranny of the law. 'Obedience keeps the rules,' he would say. 'Love knows when to break them.'
There was so much emotional response to 'Dogfight.' You just heard the audience: They were so horrified. They were sobbing. They were joyful at times.
There's something about small venues that's amazing for developing material. It's almost like you can not only hear people's response, but you can understand it. In bigger venues you lose that, but you gain this sense of camaraderie in the audience.
Sometimes you walk into things, that, if you were paying attention, vibrationally, you would know right from the beginning that it wasn't what you are wanting. In most cases, your initial knee-jerk response was a pretty good indicator of how it was going to turn out later. The things that give most of you the most grief are those things that initially you had a feeling response about, but then you talked yourself out of it for one reason or another.
In France, I'm not going to say the audience will laugh for nothing, but you could compare the response I get to the response Louis CK or Chris Rock would get if they go up in a club in Denver tonight.
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