Bach Is Bach Just As God Is

It Is So Rare...to Find A Complete Person, With A Soul, A Heart And An Imagination; So Rare For Characters As Ardent And Restless As Ours To Meet And To Be Matched Together, That I Hardly Know How To Tell You What Happiness It Gives Me To Know You.

It Is Difficult To Put Into Words What I Suffered-the Longing That Seemed To Be Tearing My Heart Out By The Roots, The Dreadful Sense Of Being Alone In An Empty Universe, The Agonies That Thrilled Through Me As If The Blood Were Running Ice-cold Through My Veins, The Disgust With Living, The Impossibility Of Dying. Shakespeare Himself Never Described This Torture; But He Counts It, In Hamlet, Among The Terrible Of All The Evils Of Existence. I Had Stopped Composing; My Mind Seemed To Become Feebler As My Feelings Grew More Intense. I Did Nothing. One Power Was Left To Me-to Suffer.

Which Of The Two Powers, Love Or Music, Can Elevate Man To The Sublimest Heights? ... It Is A Problem, And Yet It Seems To Me That This Is The Answer: 'love Can Give No Idea Of Music; Music Can Give An Idea Of Love.' ... Why Separate Them? They Are Two Wings Of The Soul.

At Least I Have The Modesty To Admit That Lack Of Modesty Is One Of My Failings.

Time Is A Great Teacher, But Unfortunately It Kills All Its Pupils.