History's Fury: Henri Bergson and Friedrich Nietzsche Shed Some Critical Light on The Sound and the Fury's Jason Compson Kate Levine

I remember the first time I really heard classical music. As long as I can remember I have loved music, but growing up, no matter how many times my parents dragged me, kicking and screaming, to the symphony, or my piano teacher tried to teach me a Mozart piano sonata, I was overcome with boredom. Nothing about this collection of instruments, or notes, no matter how intricate, how subtle, how stirring a piece was, meant anything to me. I remember that my only joy at the symphony was to wait until a movement was over, praying that some fool would clap when everyone else knew full well that we had to wait until the entire (seemingly unending) piece was done. Even as I got older and began to realize that there must be something to these musicians who those I respected deemed geniuses, I never could get a hold of the music, something eluded me. Last year I took Music theory, I began to love the notes and the cadences when on the page, but still when put together my only appreciation was in my ability to distinguish a Plagal cadence from a half cadence or a major scale from a minor one. Then one day my roommate played for me her favorite piece of music, Beethoven's La Pathetique. All of a sudden, it made sense, those years of...