Chopin is my Keats, taken by tuberculosis at the ridiculous age of 39. It's at these times when the disease really deserves its old-fashioned name of consumption.
I've often wondered when I play (or attempt to play) his freakishly hard Ballades--written at 25--how he could understand life well enough, deep enough, to write something like them after only being alive for 25 years. Then I realized he had to. He had to gulp all that living down quick, before his turn was over.
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I've often wondered when I play (or attempt to play) his freakishly hard Ballades--written at 25--how he could understand life well enough, deep enough, to write something like them after only being alive for 25 years. Then I realized he had to. He had to gulp all that living down quick, before his turn was over.
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