I would like to think that there is, especially in more recent years, a kind of autumnal repose in what I'm doing. It would be nice if what we do involved some degree of perfection, not only of a technical but also and above all of a spiritual order.
I've had all my life a tremendously strong sense that indeed there is a Hereafter and that the transformation of the spirit is a phenomenon with which one must reckon and in the light of which, indeed, one must intend to live one's life. As a consequence, I find all the here and now philosophies repellent. On the other hand, I don't have any objective images to build around my notion of a Hereafter. And I recognize it is a great temptation to formulate a comforting theory of eternal life so as to reconcile oneself to the inevitability of death. For me it intuitively seems right. I've never had to work convincing myself about the likelihood of a life hereafter. It simply seems infinitely more plausible than its opposite, which would be oblivion.
Glen Gould from the film by Bruno Monsaingeon, Glen Gould Hereafter.
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Gould plays (Bach) like a prayer. He's a kind of ecumenical priest, and brings us Bach's gospel. He had a direct link to God. He had received the kiss of God.
Natasha Gugina
One mother telephoned us after her 19 year old son had heard Gould play one night in October of 1947. She said her son came home after the concert and said, "Mum, you've always been telling me there is such a thing as a Hereafter and Life Eternal. I never really believed it until I heard Gould play. Now I know.
Bert Gould, writing when his son, Glen, was 15.
The spiritual power of art and the infinite possibilities of youth
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