'Noise has one
advantage, it drowns out words.' And suddendly he realized that all his life he
had done nothing but talk, write, lecture, concoct sentences, search for
formulations and ammend them, so in the end no words were precise, their
meanings were obliterated, their content lost, they turn into trash, chaff,
dust, sand; prowling through his brain, tearing at his head, they were his
insomnia, his illness. And what he yearned for at that moment, vaguely but with
all his might, was unbounded music, absolute sound, a pleasant and happy
all-encompassing, over-powering, window-rattling din to engulf, once and for
all, the pain, the futility, the vanity of words. Music was the negation of
sentences, music was the anti-word!
in, the Unbearable
Lightness of Being
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