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She touched his organ, and from that bright epoch even it, the old companion of his happiest hours, incapable as he had thought of elevation, began a new and deified existence.
--Charles Dickens (1812-1870), Martin Chuzzlewit (pub. 1843-44), chapter 24. [With thanks to John Lloyd and John Mitchinson, editors of brilliant quotation book If Ignorance Is Bliss, Why Aren't There More Happy People?]
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Sublime. It makes me wonder what unintended wit we are writing today.
I have often thought about how what what will be done in the future with what we create now. (For example, Bach could never have imagined people driving down motorways listening to his music reproduced electronically).
Posted by: Dominic | 25 January 2012 at 00:22