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Quote by Donna Leon

Work

Death at La Fenice

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Author

Donna Leon
Donna Leon

Donna Leon, born on September 29, 1942, is a renowned American author. Her works are primarily detective novels set in the backdrop of Venice, Italy. Leon is known for her delicate writing style and profound understanding of Italian culture. more

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“Existence is mathematical music, and all of us are the instruments playing the cosmic symphony. Our task is simple - to arrive not at any old music, but the finest music that can possibly be played. The ideal music is reached when every player is in perfect harmony with every other player, and not a single discordant note is played.”

“The voiceover promised a baker in Terre Haute, Indiana, who saw colors when he heard music, every note bringing with it a vivid shade on the color spectrum. There was a flutist in Hamburg, Germany, who experienced flavors as shapes and textures. Her favorite was white asparagus, which was a pleasing hexagonal form with smooth bumps all over its surface. There was a writer in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, who saw all her words in colors because each letter of the alphabet appeared to her in a different hue. According to the voiceover, the name of the writer's hometown, with its preponderance of vowels, which were jewel tones of reds and oranges and pinks, was her favorite word.”

“But, Mr. Harrison, did you never consider a career in music or, perhaps, as a visual artist?" the interviewer persisted. "I have a high school diploma. Guys like me, we don't consider careers. We get a job," Corny said. You're asking him the wrong questions. Ask about the sound of granulated sugar being poured into a stainless-steel bowl, the whirring motor of an electric mixer, or his fist punching down bread dough. A flat, B minor, or C sharp? Or did he prefer music made by others when he worked? If yes, then ask what songs and colors moved this man to make the lightest cakes, the chewiest cookies, breads with tender crusts?”

“The music broke her apart and put her back together, only to rend her asunder again and again. And then the climax, the compilation of all the sounds she had loved best, amplified until they echoed into eternity. As the final note swelled, a gasp broke from her, setting the tears in her eyes spilling down her face. She didn't care who saw.”