Mark Twain 56

I'm working on a piece about Saul Alinsky (Rules for Radicals) a hero of both President Obama and Hillary Clinton (in case you thought she was more moderate than him), but I'm having trouble getting it short enough to keep everyone interested.  If not later today, then probably Saturday after I get back from the hospital.  So in the mean time, here's today's Twain:

MUSIC

     Music is a salve for the wounds of the soul, and everyone, no matter how devoid of musical talent, has sometime suffered from a yearning to play an instrument.  Often, the lesser the talent, the greater the yearning.  Mark Twain succumbed to this temptation himself.  "After a long immunity from the dreadful insanity that moves a man to become a musician in defiance of the will of God'" he recalled, "I finally fell a victim to the instrument that they call an accordion."
     He learned to play "Auld Lang Syne" on it.  "After I had been playing 'Lang Syne' about a week, I had the vanity to think I could improve the original melody, and I set about adding some little flourishes and variations to it."  He was soon driven out of his boardinghouse because of the vehement objections of the other  boarders.  He moved to another boardinghouse and was driven out of that one as well.  After moving into his third boardinghouse in a week, the deternined amateur musiciasn once more resumed playing "Auld Lang Syne."
     "The very first time I struck up the variations, a haggard, careworn, cadaverous old man walked into my room and stood beaming upon me a smile of ineffable happiness.  Then he placed his hand upon my head, and looking devoutly aloft, he said with feeling unction, and in a voice trembling with emotion, 'God bless you, young man!  God  bless you!  For you have done that for me which is beyond all praise.  For years I have suffered from an incurable disease, and knowing my doom was sealed and that I must die, I have striven with all my power to resign myself to my fate, but in vain--the love of life was too strong within me.  But heaven bless you, my benefactor! for since I heard you play that tune and those variations, I do not want to live any longer--I am entirely resigned--I am willing to die--in fact, I am anxious to die."

Wagner's music is better than it sounds.

NEIGHBORS

Mark Twain had been postponing a social call upon some new neighbors, but one day he saw an opportunity.  "My name is Clemens," he said, bowing politely.  "We ought to have called on you before, and I beg your pardon for intruding now in this informal way, but your house is on fire."

NATURE

Architects cannot teach nature anything.  (from an essay "Memorable Midnight Experience," 1874)