Frederic Chopin Quotes

It's A Huge Carthusian Monastery, Stuck Down Between Rocks And Sea, Where You May Imagine Me, Without White Gloves Or Hair Curling, As Pale As Ever, In A Cell With Such Doors As Paris Never Had For Gates. The Cell Is The Shape Of A Tall Coffin, With An Enormous Dusty Vaulting, A Small Window ... Bach, My Scrawls And Waste Paper - Silence - You Could Scream - There Would Still Be Silence. Indeed, I Write To You From A Strange Place.

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