Book: The diary of a pilgrimage

No European composer, to whose music would be so difficult to have a steak like Wagner.

Only in silence we hear the incorruptible voice of truth. Human habitation and the markets day and night moaning from the overwhelming cries of blatant lies, abominable deceit and empty bluster. In silence nothing that can't be. We can't force a lie to stay in the lap of silence. She's always thrown to the surface and maintained on it by the bustle of people. Throw it on the bosom of silence - it will sink, whereas the truth rests in the flow of silence directly and boldly, firmly built like a proud ship over the abyss of the ocean. Silence holds the truth above him so that everyone could see it clearly. Only then closes above the true water of silence, when it is outdated, worn out, worn out, ceased to be itself.