Since Music Is The Only Language With

Not Only Does A Journey Transport Us Over Enormous Distances, It Also Causes Us To Move A Few Degrees Up Or Down In The Social Scale. It Displaces Us Physically And Also For Better Or For Worse Takes Us Out Of Our Class Context, So That The Colour And Flavour Of Certain Places Cannot Be Dissociated From The Always Unexpected Social Level On Which We Find Ourselves In Experiencing Them.

How Can My Old Photographs Fail To Create In Me A Feeling Of Emptiness And Sorrow? They Make Me Acutely Aware That This Second Deprivation Will Be Final This Time.

The Work Of The Painter, The Poet Or The Musician, Like The Myths And Symbols Of The Savage, Ought To Be Seen By Us, If Not As A Superior Form Of Knowledge, At Least As The Most Fundamental And The Only One Really Common To Us All; Scientific Thought Is Merely The Sharp Point More Penetrating Because It Has Been Whetted On The Stone Of Fact, But At The Cost Of Some Loss Of Substance And Its Effectiveness Is To Be Explained By Its Power To Pierce Sufficiently Deeply For The Main Body Of The Tool To Follow The Head.

Animals Are Good To Think With.

The Musical Emotion Springs Precisely From The Fact That At Each Moment The Composer Withholds Or Adds More Or Less Than The Listener Anticipates On The Basis Of A Pattern That He Thinks He Can Guess, But That He Is Incapable Of Wholly Divining. . . .