I was going to download Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21. And in the first result generated by Limewire, the composer's name was spelled 'Motzart.' Yes, 'Motzart.' Ususally, people read words first and pronounce them wrong. Hence, you hear 'Chop-in', 'Batch' and a refusal to go down Tchaikovsky street. There are Bangalis who say 'La Vega' for Las Vegas, EXPECTING a fancy-ass, exotic pronunciation.

But this filesharer (bless his generosity) must have heard the name before he ever saw it written. Funny kind of mistake. Or maybe I'm just not used to to it.

And this is why I think Oscar Wilde is Great, and not just veryveryvery good.

"When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping through the woodland that they might sing to the pool and give it comfort.

And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green tresses of their hair and cried to the pool and said, `We do not wonder that you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was he.'

`But was Narcissus beautiful?' said the pool.

`Who should know that better than you?' answered the Oreads. `Us did he ever pass by, but you he sought for, and would lie on your banks and look down at you, and in the mirror of your waters he would mirror his own beauty.'

And the pool answered, `But I loved Narcissus because, as he lay on my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw ever my own beauty mirrored.''

(The Disciple, from 'Poems in Prose')