[N]o attempt is made to call in God to their reſcue, as if he vvere an idle unconcern'd ſpectator of humane affairs, or ſo inconſiderable an ally, as not to be vvorth the care of engaging him on their ſide.
The air pooled in stillness because the winds had died and would never breathe again, and the silence betold a world of solid stone, where the planetary core had gone cold, where no rivers ran and seas no longer stirred with tides, […]
[…]How much shall I honour one, who has a stronger propensity to poetry, and has got a greater name in it, if he performs his promise to me of putting away these idle baggages after his sacred espousal.
A list of 'ingredients' for both completed symphonies can still be disconcerting; such discrepant sources — thumbnail sketches of friends or pets, landscapes and moodscapes, city lights and shadows, grief personal and ceremonial […]
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