His music is so perfect, even your simple, primitive thoughts will be contrapuntal after you've listened to it. Hell, after one mere spin of the Art of Fugue, my IQ finally cracked triple digits. And everyone should have a copy of this. Depressed? Angry at having your passport files rummaged through? You'll feel fucking groovy afterwards, even if it's a tenebrous groovy. Trust me. After all, it was just imprudent curiosity, and who hasn't fallen prey to that?
Still ungroovy? Then you're more of a misanthrope than I am. Kudos.
Here's the lovingly sad andante from his violin concerto in A minor.
It's nigh impossible to express pure feeling, the things that move us to not merely exist, but to create, to live, but Bach came pretty goddamn close, no?