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)

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