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He knew that he did not play music so much as walk into it, as if into a palace of great riches, with rooms opening into other rooms, which opened into still other rooms, and in these rooms were courtyards and fountains with passageways to yet more mysterious spaces of melody, peculiar intervals, unheard notes.
How lovely
When life was very calm and ordered, only then could he get on with his music. Some of those invisible rooms were ones of anarchy and confusion and a person needed a quiet life to approach them.
If you wait for a "calm and ordered life" before beginning, nothing will even get done
He wondered where the girl was,
He was going to have somebody reading the evening news to him for quite some time.
Such a perfect line! ;)
“You will do well here if you aspire to more refined music. I tell you, Texas will never be developed except on the coasts. Houston, Galveston, Indianola. It will never be anything inland. There’s no semblance of civilization there. No place to play your music. Lacking in refinement and rainfall, therefore neither crops nor symphonies, no, not ever. Perhaps crude approximations; Indian corn and back-country fiddling but no more, no, not ever.”
She shut her eyes. She must take great care. Trust in God, her mother said, but never dance in a small boat.
Trust in God, but never dance in a small boat
The yellow fever was an invisible being restlessly searching up and down the coast. It wanted to live on its own but everybody it inhabited died, and so it kept on searching.
the white shirts that had proved after all unlucky. Who knew what contaminations resided in the weave of the cloth or the grain of the wood? They were all too young to die and always would be.
My mama was too young to die when she was 71 years old.
Los pajarillos cantan y la luna ya se metió.
The birds sing and the moon has already set.
They could not stop looking at each other, this strange public disclosure of themselves after the privacy of letters, the privacy of imaginings, hopes misplaced or not. No masks.
