I did not have pen in hand when a bemused radio announcer commented after playing Bach’s 4th Brandenburg recently, so the following quote may not be perfectly exact. It is very very close.
How can anything so complicated and so mathematical be so beautiful?
Imagine a priest who hears one of the great settings of the Mass (or a tour of a Gothic cathedral) followed by
How can anything so complicated and so religious be so beautiful?
That is essentially how I felt. With considerable effort, one could make enough dissonant noise to be as grating as the remark. Scratch a chalkboard with the fingernails of one hand. Bang on the cracks between a few piano keys with the fingers of the other. Step on a cat’s tail and fart loudly. Doing all that would suffice.
A good priest would redirect any shock or anger at the remark into sorrow and pity for the wayward soul of a heathen who meant no harm. In this one respect anyway, I try to be like a good priest (or a good imam).
