A Quote by Lord Chesterfield

Whenever I go to an opera, I leave my sense and reason at the door with my half-guinea, and deliver myself up to my eyes and my ears. — © Lord Chesterfield
Whenever I go to an opera, I leave my sense and reason at the door with my half-guinea, and deliver myself up to my eyes and my ears.
Most people go on living their everyday life: half-frightened, half indifferent, they behold the ghostly tragic-comedy that is being performed on the international stage before the eyes and ears of the world.
That’s not the only reason I’m stayin’, chica. I can’t leave you any more than I could walk out that door right now while my leg is busted up. I was just thinkin’ . . . should we tell your parents now or later?” “Tell them what?” I ask, eyes wide. He kisses me softly, then says proudly, “That we’re in a serious, monogamous, committed relationship.” “We are?” “Sí. And when I get out of here, I’m gonna fix the door to your car.
Whenever I’d try to talk myself out of going for a walk, and there were a few days like that, I’d take myself through a series of simple tasks so I would get up and go. 1. Get up. 2. Find your house keys. 3. Put on some shoes. 4. Grab your iPod. 5. Walk out the front door.
She closes the door completely, and I crouch there. I allow myself to fall forward and rest my head on the door frame. My breath bleeds. My heartbeat drowns my ears.
Whenever I go to New York I try to soak up as much live music as I can, including as many nights at the opera as I can manage.
I bring reason to your ears, and, in language as plain as ABC, hold up truth to your eyes.
I try to leave my work at the door when I leave the set. It's almost like summer camp. You go in hard, then you leave, and it's done.
It’s extraordinary how we go through life with eyes half shut, with dull ears, with dormant thoughts. Perhaps it’s just as well; and it may be that it is this very dullness that makes life to the incalculable majority so supportable and so welcome.
Take opera for example - to go to the opera you have to dress up in a tuxedo and pay lots of money.
There are six senses: five are outer; they tell you about the world. I say something about the light; without eyes you will not know light. Ears say something about the sound; without ears you will not know anything about the sound. There is a sixth sense, the inner sense, that shows and tells you something about yourself and the ultimate source of things. That sense has to be discovered. Meditation is nothing but the discovery of the inner sense.
I have never called myself an opera singer. Other people do, but I always call myself a classical singer. I'd love to do opera, but I'm still too young and I don't want to do it until I'm ready. I realise that when I do that it's going to be... up for discussion, shall we say, so I want to get it right.
Leave the door open for the unknown, the door into the dark. That’s where the most important things come from, where you yourself came from, and where you will go.
The front door shut, leaving Alec sitting in the half-lit garden, alone. He closed his eyes for a moment, the image of a face hovering behind his lids. Not Jace's face, for a change. The eyes set in the face were green, slit-pupiled. Cat eyes.
Right now there’s a man on the street outside my door with outstretched hands full of heartbeats no one can hear. He has cheeks like torn sheet music every tear-broken crescendo falling on deaf ears. At his side there’s a boy with eyes like an anthem no one stands up for.
I keep my ears open. The world can change overnight; that's what happens in this world. You never know. You have to keep your eyes and ears open. If you can't keep up, you ain't gonna catch up. I've been making records since 1953, and you just have to keep up.
More and more, we're used to taking things in through the eyes rather than through the ears, and opera is more of a spectacle.
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