Wherever You Are, I Am There Also.

But What A Humiliation For Me When Someone Standing Next To Me Heard A Flute In The Distance And I Heard Nothing, Or Someone Standing Next To Me Heard A Shepherd Singing And Again I Heard Nothing. Such Incidents Drove Me Almost To Despair; A Little More Of That And I Would Have Ended My Life - It Was Only My Art That Held Me Back.

To Play Without Passion Is Inexcusable!

Love Demands All, And Has A Right To All.

After Rossini Dies, Who Will Be There To Promote His Music?

You Ask Me Where I Get My Ideas. That I Cannot Tell You With Certainty. They Come Unsummoned, Directly, Indirectly - I Could Seize Them With My Hands - Out In The Open Air, In The Woods, While Walking, In The Silence Of The Nights, At Dawn, Excited By Moods Which Are Translated By The Poet Into Words, By Me Into Tones That Sound And Roar And Storm About Me Till I Have Set Them Down In Notes.