He was making music - Howells, Finzi, Holst - so you could see the sounds in the serried air.

Serried. Then just as suddenly empty when his sound-proof right hand closed off the notes.

No one is exempt
and everyone's pain has a different smell.

At night, when all the colours die,
they hide in pairs

and read about themselves—
in colour, with their eyelids shut.

Great writers arrive among us like new diseases -- threatening, powerful, impatient for patients to pick up their virus, irresistible.

Friendship is one friend betraying another friend to a third friend. With a fond friendly smile. The greater the betrayal, the greater the intimacy - the greater the friendship.

There was that sound again--snap, then a footfall. She tried to whirl around as a dark form--Dear God--sprang with a splash from the darkness--grabbed her from behind, shoved her under the water.

The conductor must make it possible to eliminate himself in the music. If the orchestra feels him doing that, then everything will go well.