Aldous huxley essays music at night

Now, it is a matter of observation that painters and musicians are not monsters. There may perhaps be miracles, and there is always hope. The verbal expression of even a metaphysic or a system of ethics is very nearly as much of a work of art as a love poem.

To any one in the least sensitive to the eloquence of pure form, the two Madonnas say utterly different things about the world.

Now, it is a matter of observation that painters and musicians are not monsters. Much too exactly; that is the trouble. Music, you say; it would be a good night for music.

Music, you say; it would be a good night for music. If the purists were right, then we should have to regard painters and musicians as monsters. But I have music here in a box, shut up, like one of those bottled djinns in the Arabian Nights, and ready at a touch to break out of its prison.

If we want to know, we must listen — on a still June night, by preference, with the breathing of the invisible sea for background to the music and the scent of lime trees drifting through the darkness, like some exquisite soft harmony apprehended by another sense.

Its darkness is perfumed with faint gusts from the blossoming lime trees, with the smell of wetted earth and the invisible greenness of the vines. He ought, of course, to have given us naught all round with a hundred lines to himself for ever having set us the silly exercise. To any one in the least sensitive to the eloquence of pure form, the two Madonnas say utterly different things about the world.

Blessed and blessing, this music is in some sort the equivalent of the night, of the deep and living darkness, into which, now in a single jet, now in a fine interweaving of melodies, now in pulsing and almost solid clots of harmonious sound, it pours itself, stanchlessly pours itself, like time, like the rising and falling, falling trajectories of a life.

If we want to know, we must listen — on a still June night, by preference, with the breathing of the invisible sea for background to the music and the scent of lime trees drifting through the darkness, like some exquisite soft harmony apprehended by another sense.

There is, at least there sometimes seems to be, a certain blessedness lying at the heart of things, a mysterious blessedness, of whose existence occasional accidents or providences for me, this night is one of them make us obscurely, or it may be intensely, but always fleetingly, alas, always only for a few brief moments aware.

From Music at Night. The substance of a work of art is inseparable from its form; its truth and its beauty are two and yet, mysteriously, one.

For it is strictly impossible to be a human being and not to have views of some kind about the universe at large, very difficult to be a human being and not to express those views, at any rate by implication.

Music At Night And Other Essays

Two Madonnas — and the current symbolical conventions are observed by both artists. What is true of painting is equally true of music.

The limits of criticism are very quickly reached.

Music at night : & other essays

It is fashioned out of a substance that is like the living embodiment of flame — flame-flesh, alive and sensitive and suffering. What is true of painting is equally true of music.

The conclusion follows, unescapably. That they say anything about human destiny or the universe at large is a notion which these purists dismiss as merely nonsensical.

The difference, the enormous difference between the two pictures is a purely pictorial difference, a difference in the forms and their arrangement, in the disposition of the lines and planes and masses.

Two Madonnas — and the current symbolical conventions are observed by both artists.

Music at Night

For it is strictly impossible to be a human being and not to have views of some kind about the universe at large, very difficult to be a human being and not to express those views, at any rate by implication.

Monday, 8 June Aldous Huxley, Essays: And how sublimely rational, in the noblest, the most humane acceptation of the word, how orderedly philosophical is the landscape, are all the inhabitants of this world!

If the purists were right, then we should have to regard painters and musicians as monsters. His surfaces writhe away from the eye, as though shrinking, as though in pain. The verbal expression of even a metaphysic or a system of ethics is very nearly as much of a work of art as a love poem.

The conclusion follows, unescapably. There is, at least there sometimes seems to be, a certain blessedness lying at the heart of things, a mysterious blessedness, of whose existence occasional accidents or providences for me, this night is one of them make us obscurely, or it may be intensely, but always fleetingly, alas, always only for a few brief moments aware.

Not nearly so many, however, as the Fifth Symphony has been made to say in the verbiage of its analysts. The limits of criticism are very quickly reached. The best we can do is to indicate in the most general terms the nature of the musical beauty-truth under consideration and to refer curious truth-seekers to the original.

We cannot isolate the truth contained in a piece of music; for it is a beauty-truth and inseparable from its partner. Far away, the passage of a train is like a long caress, moving gently, with an inexorable gentleness, across the warm living body of the night.

You can buy at almost any concert an analytical program that will tell you exactly. The difference, the enormous difference between the two pictures is a purely pictorial difference, a difference in the forms and their arrangement, in the disposition of the lines and planes and masses.

This man was naked and at the mercy of destiny.Aldous Huxley was born on July 26,in Surrey, England, into a distinguished scientific and literary family; his grandfather was the noted scientist and writer, T.H.

Huxley. Music at Night is a collection of essays by Aldous Huxley. The essays in this book cover different subjects, such as morality in arts ('To the Puritan All Things are Impure', a defence of his friend D. H. Lawrence), music. Music at Night, and other essays [Aldous HUXLEY] on killarney10mile.com *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers.

Shipped from UK, please allow 10 to 21 business days for arrival. 1st Penguin Paperback Edition Thus. Slim 8vo. pp. Gently foxed to verso of covers5/5(4).

Music at Night, a collection of essays by Aldous Huxley Music at Night (play), a play by J. B. Priestley Disambiguation page providing links to. Animation & Cartoons Arts & Music Community Video Computers & Technology Cultural & Academic Films Ephemeral Films Movies. Music At Night And Other Essays Item Preview remove-circle Music At Night And Other Essays killarney10mile.com: Aldous Huxley.

Identifier killarney10mile.com Identifier-ark ark. Aldous Huxley, Essays: Music at Night. aldous huxley. home table of content across the warm living body of the night. Music, you say; it would be a good night for music.

But I have music here in a box, shut up, like one of those bottled djinns in the Arabian Nights, and ready at a touch to break out of its prison. I make the necessary.

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Aldous huxley essays music at night
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