The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto

All humans are musical. Why else would the Lord give you a beating heart?

Everyone joins a band in this life. And what you play always affects someone. Sometimes, it affects the world.

The secret is not to make your music louder, but to make the world quieter.

This is life. Things get taken away. You will learn to start over many times -- or you will be useless.

As life goes on, you will join other bands, some through friendship, some through romance, some through neighborhoods, school, an army. Maybe you will all dress the same, or laugh at your own private vocabulary. Maybe you will flop on couches backstage, or share a boardroom table, or crowd around a galley inside a ship. But in each band you join, you will play a distinct part, and it will affect you as much as you affect it.

You cannot write if you do not read,” the blind man said. “You cannot eat if you do not chew. And you cannot play if you do not”—he grabbed for the boy’s hand—“listen.

But you cannot change your past, no matter how you craft your future.

In every artist’s life, there comes a person who lifts the curtain on creativity. It is the closest you come to seeing me again. The first time, when you emerge from the womb, I am a brilliant color in the rainbow of human talents from which you choose. Later, when a special someone lifts the curtain, you feel that chosen talent stirring inside you, a bursting passion to sing, paint, dance, bang on drums. And you are never the same.

Every loss leaves a hole in your heart.

You humans are always locking each other away. Cells. Dungeons. Some of your earliest jails were sewers, where men sloshed in their own waste. No other creature has this arrogance—to confine its own. Could you imagine a bird imprisoning another bird? A horse jailing a horse? As a free form of expression, I will never understand it. I can only say that some of my saddest sounds have been heard in such places. A song inside a cage is never a song. It is a plea.

Sometimes I think the greatest talent of all is perseverance.

You cannot ask things to do what they are not meant to do. Eventually, they will break.

Truth is light. Lies are shadows. Music is both.

There are moments on earth when the Lord smiles at the unexpected sweetness of His creation.

You cannot unplay your notes. Time, like music, is indelible that way.

There is a reason you glance up when you first hear a melody, or tap your foot to the sound of a drum. All humans are musical. Why else would the Lord give you a beating heart?

EVERYONE JOINS A BAND IN THIS LIFE. You are born into your first one. Your mother plays the lead. She shares the stage with your father and siblings. Or perhaps your father is absent, an empty stool under a spotlight. But he is still a founding member, and if he surfaces one day, you will have to make room for him. As life goes on, you will join other bands, some through friendship, some through romance, some through neighborhoods, school, an army. Maybe you will all dress the same, or laugh at your own private vocabulary. Maybe you will flop on couches backstage, or share a boardroom table, or crowd around a galley inside a ship. But in each band you join, you will play a distinct part, and it will affect you as much as you affect it. And, as is usually the fate with bands, most of them will break up—through distance, differences, divorce, or death.

You’re never in love with anyone the way you are when you’re eighteen,

At a certain point, your life is more about your legacy to your kids than anything else.

What would you give to remember everything? I have this power. I absorb your memories; when you hear me, you relive them. A first dance. A wedding. The song that played when you got the big news. No other talent gives your

Music is in the connection of human souls, speaking a language that needs no words. Everyone joins a band in this life. And what you play always affects someone. Sometimes, it affects the world. Frankie’s

I have said that music allows for quick creation. But it is nothing compared with what you humans can destroy in a single conversation.

Inside all humans is the entirety of your memories, the ones you can access and the ones you cannot.

Talent is a piece of God's shadow. And under that shadow, human stories intersect.

A teacher’s shadow can hover for life.

Remember this, Francisco,” he said. “The secret is not to make your music louder, but to make the world quieter.

Man searches for courage in drink, but it is not courage that he finds, it is fear that he loses. A drunken man may step off a cliff. That does not make him brave, just forgetful.

Do not cry for losing blood. Not for something you love.

I [Music] was born in the open air, in the breaks of waves and the whistling of sandstorms, the hoots of owls and the cackles of tui birds. I travel in echoes. I ride the breeze. I was forged in nature, rugged and raw. Only man shapes my edges to make me beautiful. [Chapter 2]