The music began, stealing into the hushed hall and creating a shadowy, empty universe. Slowly the music grew into an agonized, screaming, and slashing furor, gripping us all before subsiding into a hollow death rattle and, eventually, back to silence. It was as though we had just witnessed that horrifying massacre ourselves.
The youngest girl ever to receive the Nobel Peace Prize (Oct. 10, 2013)
These two men hugged and cried unashamedly. Smailovic and Ma threw their arms around each other in an embrace. Everyone in the hall erupted in chaotic, emotional excitement—clapping, shouting, and cheering. These two men hugged and cried unashamedly. Vedran Smailovic, dressed in a stained, tattered leather motorcycle jacket Yo-Yo Ma, an elegant cellist of classical music, flawless in appearance and performance
[His wild, long hair] s, as well as a huge beard and mustached [framed] v a face that looked old beyond his years, (and the face was) 分詞構句 soaked with tears and (was) lined with pain. Now that we had encountered this man, who had shaken his cello like a fist in the face of bombs, ruins, and death, we were all stripped down to our deepest humanity. Without a doubt, his cello was the mightiest weapon of all. It was then that I realized that music is a gift we all share equally. Whether we created it or simply listen to it, it’s a gift that can soothe, inspire, and unite us, especially when we need it most—and expect it least.