If true clas­si­cal mu­sic is pre­sented by crea­tive per­for­mers, then, as op­posed to the sci­en­tific sys­tem of phi­loso­phy, it is able to turn man into an em­bodi­ment of truth, into a truly wise man, into a free man.

Mu­sic vividly dem­on­strates to the seeker of truth the po­ten­tial of know­ing truth, and places him through the knowl­edge of truth into the state of em­bodi­ment of truth – for a short time at first, and then for longer and longer pe­ri­ods.
Thus, it guides him by vir­tue of the mu­si­cal logic into the world of ex­peri­ence of the wise who li­ves truth.

Like that, mu­sic conveys the ex­peri­ence of all the ad­van­tages which re­sult from know­ing truth, and the clas­si­cal art of sound brings about, among oth­ers, the ex­peri­ence of per­fect in­ner­most joy of life, the ex­peri­ence of unre­stricted ac­cep­tance of life, and the to­tal mu­si­cal ex­peri­ence of com­pre­hen­sive in­sight into the true func­tion­ing of na­ture.
Be­yond that, mu­sic even conveys the ex­peri­ence of the al­mighty crea­tive power.

In the last millenia, owing to its na­ture, its cate­gori­cal treat­ment of mean­ings, the con­ven­tional sci­en­tific sys­tem of phi­loso­phiz­ing by word and by let­ter was able to vaguely de­scribe to man only the cog­ni­tive path of the in­tel­lect, a fact from which con­se­quently arose the mul­ti­tude of ideo­logi­cal, phi­loso­phi­cal, reli­gious, and po­liti­cal sys­tems, and from which ever new mul­ti­tudes appear.

How­ever, the natu­ral unity un­derly­ing such di­ver­sity can­not be com­pre­hended by means of ei­ther con­ven­tional writ­ing or by words as they are used to­day.
For nei­ther the spo­ken nor the printed word are able to stimu­late and awaken the feel­ing in com­plete­ness.

Yet all the great phi­loso­phers aspire unity in their con­cep­tion of the world and absurdly, so long as they op­er­ated on the mean­ing of words to cir­cum­scribe their thought, they chose the in­tel­lec­tual dis­cus­sion in word and in writ­ing – the me­dium least suited for the cog­ni­tion of unity.

Pro­ceed­ing from the mean­ing of the word, the great poets take into ac­count the sound of the word much more than do the phi­loso­phers who op­er­ate on the mean­ing alone, and by this they come much closer to the emo­tional gain­ing knowl­edge than the phi­loso­phers.

For the sound, the rhyth­mi­cal struc­ture and the me­lo­di­ous de­vel­op­ment of the word are suited by na­ture to ap­peal to the feel­ing – in the flow of time, i.e. as a dy­namic proc­ess.

Un­for­tu­nately, the mean­ing of a word is not able to di­rectly stimu­late the feel­ing in con­tem­po­rary man, and cer­tainly not in man of the last millenia be­cause, sim­ply physi­cally, it lacks the dy­namic power.

So, in its proc­ess of gain­ing knowl­edge, the con­ven­tional sys­tem of sci­en­tific phi­loso­phy rests al­most ex­clu­sively on the in­tel­lec­tual abil­ity of dis­crimi­na­tion of the un­der­stand­ing, and there­fore, as a sys­tem, it leads es­sen­tially to­wards di­ver­sity but never to­wards unity. Here, mu­sic si­mul­ta­ne­ously takes a two­fold path:

Like the con­ven­tional sci­en­tific sys­tem of phi­loso­phy, mu­sic de­scribes in its vari­ous mu­si­cal force-fields the dif­fer­en­tia­tion of the forms and phe­no­mena of na­ture – the ob­jec­tive ones in the mu­si­cal sound-space, the sub­jec­tive ones in the motif-space, the so­cial ones in the se­quence-space – and the in­te­grated whole­ness of all dif­fer­en­ti­ated phe­no­mena in the in­fi­nite space of the har­mony.

Si­mul­ta­ne­ously, how­ever, with its dif­fer­en­ti­ated way of de­scrib­ing the facts, mu­sic pre­sents a con­sis­tent, dy­namic proc­ess in which those facts are cre­ated, changed, re-formed again and again, and fi­nally brought to decay – on all lev­els of the mu­si­cal de­scrip­tion.