I knew the whistle of each of the river boats on the Tennessee.
Whenever I heard the song of a bird and the answering call of its mate, I could visualize the notes in scale, all built up within my consciousness as a natural symphony.
The blues - the sound of a sinner on revival day.
Setting my mind on a musical instrument was like falling in love. All the world seemed bright and changed.
Nature was my kindergarten.
You've got to appreciate the things that come from the art of the Negro and from the heart of the man farthest down.