Music (n.) shows itself, and that cannot be enunciated because the meaning of a musical phrase lies within it, beyond any sound/thought dualism.
Music (n.) connects and resonates with our cultural forms of life. It is not alone.
Music (n.) seems primitive with its few notes and rhythms, but only its surface is simple; it conceals the infinite complexity other arts display — the most sophisticated art of all.
Music (n.) can speak: of Labor's playing one says 'He is speaking', and the likeness to speech is no incidental one, though not all music is a language.
Music (n.) is not an instrument for producing in us sequences of feelings — as if any other means would do instead; music conveys to us itself.
A Music (n.) al theme (n.) seems to need a reason for following another, as if the sequence had to match a paradigm already in us; often the answer is that it corresponds to a gesture.
Music (n.) can astonish me at the same turn every time, though I know the piece by heart; perhaps its sense is to astonish.
Music (n.) that suddenly means something gives you access to a gesture, not to something you could explain.
Music (n.) could strike someone who had never heard it as a language whose meaning was being kept secret from him.
Music (n.) is understood like a sentence: why these bars just so, I cannot say except by translating into another picture.
Music (n.) might be another mode of expression; science is characterized by containing no musical themes.