Art & Creativity Quote by Paul Twitchell

Twitchell’s “divine” doesn’t arrive as doctrine or duty; it hits like a soundtrack. By describing spiritual perception as “a strange sound of music,” he sidesteps the old religious vocabulary of commandments and creeds and goes straight for sensation. “Strange” is doing quiet work here: the experience isn’t merely beautiful, it’s destabilizing, a little alien. That word grants him credibility with seekers who distrust tidy piety but still crave the uncanny.

The imagery is lush but also strategic. Music is the one art form that feels both intimate and ungraspable: it moves through you, then vanishes. Calling it “glories” and a “marvellous melody” offers an emotional payoff without the burden of proof. You can’t fact-check a feeling. You can only recognize it or not. That makes the line persuasive in a celebrity-spirituality register, where authenticity is measured by vividness, not verifiability.

“A multitude of flutes” is the clincher: flutes carry a breathy, airy timbre that reads as “higher” and less earthbound than drums or brass. A crowd of them suggests abundance and elevation, as if the sacred is not a single message but an immersive environment. The subtext is invitation and authority at once: Twitchell positions himself as someone who hears what others can’t, yet frames it in a universally legible metaphor. Context matters here: mid-20th-century American alternative spirituality rewarded experiential language, and Twitchell’s lyricism sells transcendence as something you can almost hear on your own, if you follow the right guide.