The Silence of Literature

More and more I value the silence of literature. Fine art also, but mostly literature. Music seeps into the cracks of so many art forms.  Films would crumble without it, revealing them as the soft, cheesy paste that they are. Yes, our very lives are stuffed with incessant melodies and rhythms. Everywhere I turn I hear a violin plucked, a bass drum kicked, or a piano plonked. My thoughts are being directed, not allowed to run free: alongside. But not in literature – no, not there.. (Eduard Medéau)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s