Saint-Saëns wisely, one sentence explained the ins and outs of Jacqueline's life behind the ukulele. The gut-wrenching performance of Elgar's concerto took away all the drowsiness in my plan, but it also made me wonder if the ultimate beauty requires the ultimate tragedy as a reward.
I said, this is the best movie I've ever seen, and I'm hesitating to add one. At this point, all the words appear to be barren and pale, so weak that they are not even comparable to the empty strings that Jacqueline can easily play. The surging emotion and emotion in my chest have already filled all the blank pages, and I don't need to go into details. However, in the face of such a story and life, who would be willing to truly go silent.
Jacqueline's pain inevitably traces back to the powerful gap before and after her childhood. She was accustomed and willing to live in the adoration of the gifted flutist sister. However, when worship turned into dependence, the resulting lack of self-seeking was the source of her confusion in the future. Gradually, when her brilliance and edge had far surpassed Hillary, she envied Hillary's dimness and ordinaryness already reflected by her brilliance.
Hillary said, if you think ordinary is easier than extraordinary, you are wrong.
These words may be a mysterious language that Jacqueline, who is full of applause under the spotlight, will never understand.
Daniel said, without cello you are not you.
No matter whether you love it or not, whether you like it or not, there is a soul fulcrum in everyone's destiny that cannot be rewritten. Like, the flute was to Hillary, the cello was to Jacqueline.
It's just why, those who insist are not happy, and those who are happy are abandoned.
Could it be that compromise and concession are the only options for art in the face of stability? Could it be that true art is destined to be a fragmented ornament and a displaced epitaph? Could it be that a scorching, unsuspecting heart must endure the cold and lonely wandering in the vast universe. Could it be that those who have written their lives into works are walking on a path more lonely than the pilgrims.
Mr. Liang said that self-denial and absurd cognition are the inevitability of awakening. However, the process of imminent awakening is the most heart-wrenching torment.
I just sighed at the fiery tacit understanding that Jacqueline and Daniel had when they met Beethoven wildly. I just miss Jacqueline's graceful body that moves like a gossamer when she plays the violin, and her green fingers that dance like flying saucers when she vibrates the strings. My heart aches, Jacqueline's life on the violin is not as good as death and the convulsive convulsions. I just cried. When Jacqueline was dying, Hillary recollected her childhood promise. She walked across the vast mountains and plains, deserted rivers and seas, and climbed the mountains.
Is it by the bridge of Naihe, only you can pick up the old flute and play a melody that will never be forgotten for me.
But what kind of trajectory has the years pushed the sisters, the two girls who have not changed are running on the desert, facing the sea, waiting for life to bloom like a song.
What doesn't change is Jacqueline's adamant statement that everything's gonna be all right.
Elgar gave you color, you gave it soul.
Dear Jacqueline, I finally understand that the aria on the G string is a tribute to your life.
Over the desert, there is an Elgar E minor, which never dies.
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