Beauty

I found this yesterday when I was doing some reading on Chopin. I think it is exquisite. At little background first: Frederic Chopin had a long time lover who, although a Baroness, went by the pseudonym of George Sand. George once described an evening with Chopin with their friend Delacroix in attendance:

"Chopin is at the piano, quite oblivious of the fact that anyone is listening. He embarks on a sort of casual improvisation, then stops. 'Go on, go on,' exclaims Delacroix, 'That's not the end!'

'It's not even a beginning. Nothing will come ... nothing but reflections, shadows, shapes that won't stay fixed. I'm trying to find the right colour, but I can't even get the form ...'

'You won't find the one without the other,' says Delacroix, 'and both will come together.'

'What if I find nothing but moonlight?'

'Then you will have found the reflection of a reflection.'

The idea seems to please the divine artist. He begins again, without seeming to, so uncertain is the shape. Gradually quiet colours begin to show, corresponding to the suave modulations sounding in our ears. Suddenly the note of blue sings out, and the night is all around us, azure and transparent. Light clouds take on fantastic shapes and fill the sky. They gather about the moon which casts upon them great opalescent discs, and wakes the sleeping colours. We dream of a summer night, and sit there waiting for the song of the nightingale ..."