cheryl playing harp


by Allan C. Inman

I am music, most ancient of the arts. I am more than ancient; I am eternal.
Even before life commenced upon this earth, I was here-in the winds and the waves.
When the first trees and flowers and grasses appeared, I was among them.
And when Man came, I at once became the most delicate, most subtle, and most powerful
medium for the expression of Man's emotions.
When men were little better than beasts, I influenced them for their good.
In all ages I have inspired men with hope, kindled their love, given a voice to their joys,
cheered them on to valorous deeds, and soothed them in times of despair.
I have played a great part in the drama of love, whose end and purpose is the complete
perfection of man's nature.
Through my influence human nature has been uplifted, sweetened and refined.
With the aid of men, I have become a Fine Art.
From Tubalcain to Thomas Edison, a long line of the brightest minds have devoted
themselves to the perfection of instruments through which men may utilize my power
and enjoy my charms.
I have myriads of voices and instruments.
I am in the hearts of all men and on their tongues, in all lands and among all peoples;
The ignorant and unlettered know me, not less than the rich and learned.
For I speak to all men, in a language that all understand.
Even the deaf hear me, if they but listen to the voices of their own souls.
I am the food of love.
I have taught men gentleness and peace; and I have led them onward to heroic deeds.
I comfort the lonely, and I harmonize the discord of crowds.
I am a necessary luxury to all men.
I am Music.



by Kathryn Hibbs Voit

The harp is an ancient instrument
Going from lyre to concert grand.
It started with the bow
And exists in every land.

When fingers pluck the strings,
One is immersed in sound.
Its vibrations are piercing,
The effects do astound.

Time ceases to exist.
Mind is one with body,
With music so soothing,
It's linked to the godly.

Listening is stepping into Narnia
With your body quivering,
Or falling down a rabbit hole,
And feel your spirit quickening.

It alerts you to another world,
A wonderland for wandering,
While living on the edge yields,
New images for pondering.

Troubadours once strolled the earth,
Strumming while they walked around.
The world needs itinerant harpists,
Healing results would be profound.



by Thomas Moore

When through life unblest we rove,
Losing all that made life dear,
Should some notes we used to love,
In days of boyhood, meet our ear,
Oh, how welcome breathes the strain!
Wakening thoughts that long have slept,
Kindling former smiles again
In faded eyes that long have wept.

Like the gale, that sighs along
Beds of oriental flowers,
Is the grateful breath of song,
That once was heard in happier hours.
Fill'd with balm the gale sighs on,
Though the flowers have sunk in death;
So, when pleasure's dream is gone,
Its memory lives in Music's breath.

Music, oh, how faint, how weak,
Language fades before thy spell!
Why should Feeling ever speak,
When thou canst breathe her soul so well?
Friendship's balmy words may feign,
Love's are even more false than they;
Oh, 'tis only music's strain
Can sweetly soothe, and not betray.



Music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart.

by Pablo Casals

Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.

by Berthold Auerbach

Music in itself is healing…No matter what culture we're from, everyone loves music.

by Billy Joel

Music is the poetry of human expression through sound in time.