The course hitherto pursued in musical aesthetics has nearly always been hampered by the false assumption that the object was not so much to inquire into what is beautiful in music as to describe the feelings which music awakens.
“When I was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first time, I learned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave.”
“Love is an ice cream sundae, with all the marvelous coverings. Sex is the cherry on top.”