From the preface to the score of Liszt's third symphonic poem Les preludes, published in 1856: What else is our life but a series of preludes to that unknown hymn, the first and solemn note of which is intoned by Death? Love is the enchanted dawn of all existence; but what fate is there whose first delights of happiness are not interrupted by some storm, whose fine illusions are not dissipated by some mortal blast, consuming its altar as though by a stroke of lightening? What cruelly wounded soul does not endeavor to solace its memories in calm serenity? Nevertheless, when "the trumpet sounds the alarm" man takes up his perilous post, no matter what struggle calls him to its ranks, that he may recover in the combat the full consciousness of himself and entire possession of his powers.
