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victor hugo, Les Contemplations, MorsJe vis cette faucheuse. Elle était dans son champ. Elle allait à grands pas moissonnant et fauchant, Noir squelet...more

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Usually, the murmur that rises up from Paris by day is the city talking; in the night it is the city breathing; but here it is the city singing. Liste...more

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Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.

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We do not claim that the portrait we are making is the whole truth, only that it is a resemblance.

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. . .where there is no more hope, song remains.

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Lend your ear then to this tutti of steeples; diffuse over the whole the buzz of half a million of human beings, the eternal murmur of the river, the ...more