Aphorisms
Essays About

Music

Hearing albums we own in public, we hum more passionately than at home, our complacency as owners replaced by our longing as outsiders.
Subtlety and complexity in art sadly tend to undermine themselves. They are hard to notice, in proportion as they are hard to create.
In a concert hall, the girl in bloom closes her eyes and imagines all she may be, while beside her the wrinkled widow closes her eyes and remembers all she has been.
The performing artist, deadened by repetition, is an uninspired inspirer.