Music once admitted to the soul becomes a sort of spirit, and never dies; it wanders perturbedly thorough the halls and galleries of the memory, and is often heard again, distinct and living as when it first displaced the wavelets of the air.
Music once admitted to the soul becomes a sort of spirit, and never dies; it wanders perturbedly thorough the halls and galleries of the memory, and is often heard again, distinct and living as when it first displaced the wavelets of the air.