Jay

“Cleopatra: I dreamt there was an emperor Antony.
O, such another sleep, that I might see
But such another man.

Dolabella: If it might please you—

Cleopatra: His face was as the heavens, and therein stuck
A sun and moon, which kept their course and lighted
The little O, the Earth.

Dolabella: Most sovereign creature—

Cleopatra: His legs bestrid the ocean, his reared arm
Crested the world. His voice was propertied
As all the tunèd spheres, and that to friends;
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,
There was no winter in ‘t; an autumn ’twas
That grew the more by reaping. His delights
Were dolphin-like; they showed his back above
The element they lived in. In his livery
Walked crowns and crownets; realms and islands were
As plates dropped from his pocket.

Dolabella: Cleopatra—

Cleopatra: Think you there was, or might be, such a man
As this I dreamt of?

Dolabella: Gentle madam, no.

Cleopatra: You lie up to the hearing of the gods!
But if there be nor ever were one such,
It’s past the size of dreaming. Nature wants stuff
To vie strange forms with fancy, yet t’ imagine
An Antony were nature’s piece ‘gainst fancy,
Condemning shadows quite.”
― William Shakespere, Antony and Cleopatra

“The only philosophy which can be responsibly practised in face of despair is the attempt to contemplate all things as they would present themselves from the standpoint of redemption. Knowledge has no light but that shed on the world by redemption: all else is reconstruction, mere technique. Perspectives must be fashioned that displace and estrange the world, reveal it to be, with its rifts and crevices, as indigent and distorted as it will appear one day in the messianic light. To gain such perspectives without velleity or violence, entirely from felt contact with its objects — this alone is the task of thought.”
― Theodor W. Adorno, Minima Moralia: Reflections on a Damaged Life

“Above all, Sibelius's music concerns itself with the relationship between a melancholic yet ebullient mind and the wider world outside it; with the function of emotions, the imagination and the intellect in human life; with how art can survey, scrutinize and give meaning to the strangeness of existence.

“Frequently, therefore, not only do the abstract and the programmatic coalesce in Sibelius; the elemental - fire, earth, air, water - are also attached to the psychological. Nature painting in his music is never mere sonic landscaping but a penetrating examination of human mental processes, as well as insecurity and instability. The dark forests of Tapiola (1926) are the gloomy forests of the mind; the harsh, stark landscapes of the Fourth Symphony (1911) are soundscapes of spiritual, cerebral and ecological anguish; the erotic thrills and dangerous liaisons of Kullervo (1892), Lemminkäinen (1896), and the First Symphony (1899) serve as prophetic warnings not just about psychosexual licentiousness but environmental debauchery too.

“In his extraordinary symphonies and tone poems, Sibelius explores the stimulating forces and shadowy agencies lurking behind the locked doors of nature, the dense layers of myth and the misty windows of the soul. His is a captivating and increasingly pertinent musical mind we would do well to heed.”
― David Vernon, Sun Forest Lake: The Symphonies & Tone Poems of Jean Sibelius

“Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them — Ding-dong, bell.”
― William Shakespeare, The Tempest