“Once she called to invite me to a concert of Liszt piano concertos. The soloist was a famous South American pianist. I cleared my schedule and went with her to the concert hall at Ueno Park. The performance was brilliant. The soloist’s technique was outstanding, the music both delicate and deep, and the pianist’s heated emotions were there for all to feel. Still, even with my eyes closed, the music didn’t sweep me away. A thin curtain stood between myself and pianist, and no matter how much I might try, I couldn’t get to the other side. When I told Shimamoto this after the concert, she agreed.”But what was wrong with the performance?” she asked. “I thought it was wonderful.””Don’t you remember?” I said. “The record we used to listen to, at the end of the second movement there was this tiny scratch you could hear. Putchi! Putchi! Somehow, without that scratch, I can’t get into the music!”Shimamoto laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call that art appreciation.””This has nothing to do with art. Let a bald vulture eat that up, for all I care. I don’t care what anybody says; I like that scratch!””Maybe you’re right,” she admitted. “But what’s this about a bald vulture? Regular vultures I know about–they eat corpses. But bald vultures?”In the train on the way home, I explained the difference in great detail.The difference in where they are born, their call, their mating periods. “The bald vulture lives by devouring art. The regular vulture lives by devouring the corpses of unknown people. They’re completely different.””You’re a strange one!” She laughed. And there in the train seat, ever so slightly, she moved her shoulder to touch mine. The one and only time in the past two months our bodies touched.”

“As for the piano, the faster her fingers flew over it, the more he marveled. She struck the keys with aplomb and ran from one end of the keyboard to the other without a stop.”

“Laughter with those that understand us is music for the soul. A hug at the right moment and a kind shoulder to lean on,Is the sprinkle of magic that keeps us walking towards hope.”

“In scientific thinking are always present elements of poetry. Science and music requires a thought homogeneous.”

“Well in case you failed to notice,In case you failed to see,This is my heart bleeding before you,This is me down on my kneesThese foolish games are tearing me apartYour thoughtless words are breaking my heartYou’re breaking my heart”

“Music is one of the highest forms of language which can touch everyone’s feeling—including animals.”

“I’m sure we all have dreams of leaving at some time in our lives, but when we reach the bottom, most of us go running home.”

“Music links us humans, heart to heart…Across time and space, and life and death.”

“When I was a child, Mama had the best voice of all the members of the church. She had loved to sing. Her words had soared like an angel’s over the swells of the organ. In fact, I now suspected, her entire theology had been taken from the hymnal.”

“Style is the inner feeling which turns random movement into music.”

“All is as if the world did cease to exist. The city’s monuments go unseen, its past unheard, and its culture slowly fading in the dismal sea.”

“Music only makes me think deeper and love stronger.”

“Music is my ecstasy. It soothes my soul and lets my heart dance with joy.”

“I’d like to die listening to a piece of music. I imagine this as so easy, so natural, but naturally it’s quite impossible. Notes stab too softly. The wounds they leave behind may smart, but they don’t fester. Melancholy and pain trickle out instead of blood. When the notes cease, all is peaceful within me again.”