One writes music because winter is eternal and because, if one didn’t, the wolves and blizzards would be at one’s throat all the sooner.
David Mitchell: Cloud Atlas
an abandoned chest of roistering literature for the drunk and rampant reader.
an abandoned chest of roistering literature for the drunk and rampant reader.
One writes music because winter is eternal and because, if one didn’t, the wolves and blizzards would be at one’s throat all the sooner.
