I Live For These Moments


I tend to listen to Classical music and Swing when writing during the day. My oldest son, who has passed through during the night and heard what I listen to then, recently asked me why I listen to these kinds of music and not the other. I simply told him that it reminds me of a time when writers had fewer distractions while they worked.

So he asks me what that means, to which I reply;

“Well you see; when I listen to this music, I go to a nice quiet place where there are no televisions, no computers, no radios and no screaming little people.”

His eyes get wider and wider as I tell him this and he answers, awestruck;

“Whoa! Can you take me there sometime?”

Me: “Aww, sure buddy. Get me that book over there, and I’ll take you to a place just like it.”

“You can’t, if …


“You can’t, if you can’t feel it, if it never
Rises from the soul, and sways
The heart of every single hearer,
With deepest power, in simple ways.
You’ll sit forever, gluing things together,
Cooking up a stew from other’s scraps,
Blowing on a miserable fire,
Made from your heap of dying ash.
Let apes and children praise your art,
If their admiration’s to your taste,
But you’ll never speak from heart to heart,
Unless it rises up from your heart’s space.”
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust