Reed players "are entirely dependent upon a short-lived vegetable matter of merciless capriciousness, with which, however, when it behaves, are wrought perhaps the most tender and expressive sounds in all wind music."
-- Baines, Woodwind Instruments and Their History
This reminds me of something Kierkegaard said about poets and their lives (it was comparable to "short-lived vegetable matter of merciless capriciousness"), which I'll probably hunt for and post sometime soon.
Would there be beauty without struggle and pain?
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