Nothing can touch me more than lay-people's love for music. Not those who sit in concert halls but those who play at home; not those who say, "If only my mother had forced me to practice!" but those who practice anyway. Sometimes in the evening I watch with wonder as Guy practices the piano. He plays badly, but with such devotion (he has a gigantic repertoire by heart) that I realize the greatest pianist in the world could not give him as much joy as his ability to make these sounds himself.