Music, Words, Sex, Silence
The reason our deepest thoughts and emotions can't be said, or even sung, is because they are individual and are of endlessly shifting and indefinite form. Words and music are both too Universal, too humdrum and too specifically molded, too finite to convey them. That is why music is so unerotic. True egoism - love; the flesh; truth itself- is unknown to it. At least mere words still leave something to the imagination, a tremulous shudder of doubt to fill in with heroic action and obscene innuendos. A deafening and abysmal silence pervades all speech, that is its strength. Silence within music just becomes another part of the music, a part that is even more limited. My love isn't beautifully and finely crafted like music; my love is limitless terror and a lilac handkerchief thrown into the void. The only soundtrack I can possibly imagine to it is the music to a stabbing in an Alfred Hitchcock film. But how would that do justice to its infinite gentleness? As Ludwig Witt...