Music Is Not A Science Any More

Who Has Passed By The Fates Of Disillusion Has Died Twice.

The Art Of Pleasing Is More Based On The Art Of Seeming Pleased Than People Think Of, And She Disarmed The Prejudices Of Her Enemies By The Unaffected Delight She Appeared To Take In Themselves.

There Is No More Terrible Woe Upon Earth Than The Woe Of The Stricken Brain, Which Remembers The Days Of Its Strength, The Living Light Of Its Reason, The Sunrise Of Its Proud Intelligence, And Knows That These Have Passed Away Like A Tale That Is Told.

The Philosopher Stands At His Desk In The Lecture Hall, And Demonstrates Away The Soul Of Man, And With Exact Thought Measures Out His Atoms And Resolves Him Back To Gas And Air. But The Revolutionary, Below In The Crowd, Hears, And Only Translates What He Hears Thus To His Brethren: 'let Us Drink While We May; Property Is Robbery; This Life Is All; Let Us Kill And Eat; There Is No God.

Friendship Is Such An Elastic Word. There Never Was An Age When It Stood For So Many Things In Private, And Was Yet So Absolutely Non-existent In Fact.