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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Turmoil, a novel"

And wouldn't it be pleasant, really, if
they could all cross the winning-line together? Who really enjoys
beating anybody--if he sees the beaten man's face? The only way we
can enjoy getting ahead of other people nowadays is by forgetting what
the other people feel. And that," he added, "is nothing of what the
music meant to me. You see, if I keep talking about what it didn't
mean I can keep from telling you what it did mean."
"Didn't it mean courage to you, too--a little?" she asked. "Triumph
and praise were in it, and somehow those things mean courage to me."
"Yes, they were all there," Bibbs said. "I don't know the name of
what he played, but I shouldn't think it would matter much. The man
that makes the music must leave it to you what it can mean to you, and
the name he puts to it can't make much difference--except to himself
and people very much like him, I suppose."
"I suppose that's true, though I'd never thought of it like that."
"I imagine music must make feelings and paint pictures in the minds of
the people who hear it," Bibbs went on, musingly, "according to their
own natures as much as according to the music itself.


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