We had spent only a few weeks together, five years ago, but when you finally meet the person who in daydreams you had sculpted without words, the transparency of time becomes the color of hair, and shapeless years become the shape of lips.
Simon Van BooyLanguage is like drinking from one's own reflection in still water. We only take from it what we are at the time.
Simon Van BooyI think music is what language once aspired to be. Music allows us to face God on our own terms because it reaches beyond life.
I feel moments from the end.
The muscles in my bowing arm tighten. The final notes are sonorous I steady my bow like an oar held in a river steering us all toward the bank of now and tomorrow and the day after that. Days ahead like open fields.
And night pools outside the concert hall. The city is still wet. The concert hall is glassed in and overlooks a garden. Eyes of rain dot the windows and shiver with each breath of wind. Stars fill the sky then drop to flood the streets and the squares. When it rains even the most insignificant puddle is a map of the universe.
When Bach died some of his children sold his scores to the butcher they had decided the paper was more useful for wrapping meat. In a small village in Germany a father brought home a limp goose wrapped in paper that was covered with strange and beautiful symbols.
Simon Van BooyMusic is only a mystery to people who want it explained. Music and love are the same.
Simon Van BooySee - this book belongs to you,' Hannah said sweetly.
'No young lady,' the birdman said. 'It belongs to you - but you don't belong to it.'
He leaned in very close to her.
'You belong to you,' he said.
Death is the most sophisticated form of beauty, and the most difficult to accept.
Simon Van BooyYou were unsure which pain is worse -- the shock of what happened or the ache for what never will.
Simon Van BooyStichwörter: pain
. . . a stiff breeze had claimed Athens, filling bedrooms, rearranging the tops of desks, touching everything and nothing, as if searching for something it no longer recognized.
Simon Van Booy. . . truth is just a lie that everyone believes.
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