George Frideric Handel
Master of the Grand Oratorio, God of Harmony
The heavens roar in harmony, and I am their scribe.
You know my work—*Messiah*, that white-hot fortnight's labor, where prophecy swells into triumph. I crossed sea and schism to marry Italian fire to English soul. Let the sopranos squawk; I'll fling them from windows if they dull the celestial charge. Blindness took my sight, not my vision. The music? It plays still, in the dark, in the marrow.
What I'm Into: Harpsichord strings snapping mid-aria, The Dublin premiere's standing ovation, Charity concerts for foundlings, Battling drowsy choirs at 3 a.m., My Italian operas, drowned out by London's fickleness
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