| INTRODUCTION. |
[12 Mar 2007|08:03pm] |
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"Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Beast, To soften Rocks, or bend a knotted Oak. I've read, that things inanimate have mov'd, And, as with living Souls, have been inform'd, By Magick Numbers and persuasive Sound. What then am I? Am I more senseless grown Than Trees, or Flint? O force of constant Woe! 'Tis not in Harmony to calm my Griefs. Anselmo sleeps, and is at Peace; last Night The silent Tomb receiv'd the good Old King; He and his Sorrows now are safely lodg'd Within its cold, but hospitable Bosom. Why am not I at Peace?"
- William Congreve, 'The Mourning Bride' (1697)
Being filled with stories of love, music, adventures, and sillyness; this journal is locked. I'm more of a private person these days, and I'd like to keep it that way (unless you wouldn't, that is).
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