My Manuscripts Sleep, While I Cannot, For

Among The Numerous Pleasures Of Vienna The Hotel Evenings Are Famous. During Supper Strauss Or Lanner Play Waltzes...after Every Waltz They Get Huge Applause; And If They Play A Quodlibet, Or Jumble Of Opera, Song And Dance, The Hearers Are So Overjoyed That They Don't Know What To Do With Themselves. It Shows The Corrupt Taste Of The Viennese Public.

Concerts Are Never Real Music, You Have To Give Up The Idea Of Hearing In Them All The Most Beautiful Things Of Art.

Liszt Commenting On The Music Of Frédéric Chopin: He Confided . . . Those Inexpressible Sorrows To Which The Pious Give Vent In Their Communication With Their Maker. What They Never Say Except Upon Their Knees, He Said In His Palpitating Compositions.

Play Mozart In Memory Of Me - And I Will Hear You.

If I Were Still Stupider Than I Am, I Should Think Myself At The Apex Of My Career; Yet I Know How Much I Still Lack, To Reach Perfection; I See It The More Clearly Now That I Live Only Among First-rank Artists And Know What Each One Of Them Lacks.