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whether Tchaikovsky really had been so afraid his head would fall off while conducting that he had held it in place with his left hand.
It is wonderful, ethereal music. But I am unable to listen to it. It moves me to stroke the heads of my fellow beings for being able to produce such beautiful things in spite of the abominable hell they are living in. It is necessary to smash those heads, smash them without mercy.
If a stopped clock is right twice a day, a bad haircut is right twice a decade.
