Here were the tart herbs of plain American speech, the pasture, without the flowers of elocution… the clean rhythms… the irony and the homespun tenderness that, in a fine perforation, reached a...

Here were the tart herbs of plain American speech, the pasture, without the flowers of elocution… the clean rhythms… the irony and the homespun tenderness that, in a fine perforation, reached a sustained exaltation.
Aaron Copland

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If a literary man puts together two words about music, one of them will be wrong.
- Aaron Copland
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A melody is not merely something you can hum.
- Aaron Copland

Here were the tart herbs of plain American speech, the pasture, without the flowers of elocution… the clean rhythms… the irony and the homespun tenderness that, in a fine perforation, reached a sustained exaltation. Aaron Copland

Here were the tart herbs of plain American speech, the pasture, without the flowers of elocution… the clean rhythms… the irony and the homespun tenderness that, in a fine perforation, reached a sustained exaltation.
Aaron Copland