Musicon / Music and Literature / Buxtehude, Passacaglia: music that seems to listen to itself
When I felt bad I asked Pistorius to play Buxtehude’s passacaglia. Then I would sit in the dusk-filled church completely involved in this unusually intimate, self- absorbed music, music that seemed to listen to itself, that comforted me each time, prepared me more and more to heed my own ::More
Musicon / Music and Literature / A mysterious organist
Twice or three times during my walks I had heard organ music coming from a small church at the edge of town. I had not stopped to listen. The next time I passed this church I heard the music again and recognized Bach. I went to the door, found it locked, and because the street was almost deserted ::More
Musicon / Music and Literature / Learning to laugh
Then the door of the box opened and in came Mozart. I did not recognize him at the first glance, for he was without pigtail, knee breeches and buckled shoes, in modern dress. He took a seat close beside me, and I was on the point of holding him back because of the blood that had flowed over the ::More
Musicon / Music and Literature / Speaking with Mozart
And I heard from the empty spaces within the theater the sound of music, a beautiful and awful music, that music from Don Giovanni that heralds the approach of the guest of stone. With an awful and an iron clang it rang through the ghostly house, coming from the other world, from the ::More
Musicon / Music and Literature / Homesickness
It was life and reality that were wrong. It was as little right that a woman like me should have no other choice than to grow old in poverty and in a senseless way at a typewriter in the pay of a money-maker, or to marry such a man for his money’s sake, or to become some kind of drudge, as ::More
