If I Weren't The Way I Am,

Spring Won't Let Me Stay In This House Any Longer! I Must Get Out And Breathe The Air Deeply Again.

It Is Always The Same With Me; Only When I Experience Something Do I Compose, And Only When Composing Do I Experience! After All, A Musician's Nature Can Hardly Be Expressed In Words.

The Call Of Love Sounds Very Hollow Among These Immobile Rocks.

We All Return. It Is This Certainty That Gives Meaning To Life And It Does Not Make The Slightest Difference Whether Or Not In A Later Incarnation We Remember The Former Life. What Counts Is Not The Individual And His Comfort, But The Great Aspiration To The Perfect And The Pure Which Goes On In Each Incarnation.

Tradition Is Not The Worship Of Ashes, But The Preservation Of Fire.