Monday, May 30, 2011

Currently Reading: The Silmarillion

"For it seemed at first soft and sweet, a mere rippling of gentle sounds in delicate melodies; but it could not be quenched, and it took to itself power and profundity. And it seemed at last that there were two musics progressing at one time before the seat of Ilúvatar, and they were utterly at variance. The one was deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came. The other had now achieved a unity of its own; but it was loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes. And it essayed to drown the the music by the violence of its voice, but it seemed that its most triumphant notes were taken by the other and woven into its own solemn pattern."

~The Silmarillion, "The Ainulindalë", J.R.R. Tolkein.

Dear J.R.R. Tolkein,

I'm onto you.
You just really like words.
Like, not just like them-
but like-like them.
You're in love with them, and the powerful majesty and the graceful subtlety they possess. And you've used them skillfully, and you've wrought magic with them.
And way to create your own languages. They're pretty legit. And stunningly gorgeous. And they give you even more beautiful words to describe the same idea. I caught onto your superfluous love of words when I realized that Elves, Firstborn, Calaquendi, and Eldar all mean the same thing. I guess you had a lot to say, and English couldn't say all of it.
I see.
I see what you're doing.
I see you.
That's okay. A little heart-breaking beauty never hurt anyone.

Keep up the good work.

Much love,

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