Impossible Questions

I’ve been asked the following on more than one occasion:

“Who do you like more, Mozart or Beethoven?”

The response is as follows:

Some spluttering – “How dare… I don’t….”- followed by a narrowing of the eyes.

“I love them both the same.”

Beethoven and Mozart have been constant, steady figures in my life for many years. The earliest memory I have of them is from middle school, when I was trying hard to work on a project and couldn’t focus until my mom put a “Smart Symphonies” CD on. My ears pricked – there they were. Beautiful and safe and strangely familiar.

I cannot possibly choose between the two. I love them both fiercely. It tears me apart to even think of who could be better, so I don’t.

Besides, how could you pick a favorite from them?

Beethoven: “Beethoven can write, thank God; but do nothing else on earth.”

Mozart: “Our riches, being in our brains, die with us… Unless of course someone chops off our head, in which case we won’t need them anyway.”

Two brilliant, sarcastic souls.



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