Her singing reminds me of a cart coming downhill with the brake on.

I have just been all round the world and have formed a very poor opinion of it.

The sound of a harpsichord - two skeletons copulating on a tin roof in a thunderstorm.

Madam, you have between your legs an instrument capable of giving pleasure to thousands and all you can do is scratch it.

The grand tune is the only thing in music that the great public really understands.

A soprano in Massenet's Don Quixote complained that she had missed her entry in the aria, "because Mr. Challiapin always dies too soon." "Madam, you must be profoundly in error," said Sir Thomas, "No operatic star has yet died half soon enough for me."

Composers should write tunes that chauffeurs and errand boys can whistle.