Why Hurry Over Beautiful Things? Why Not

There Is Nothing Greater Than The Joy Of Composing Something Oneself And Then Listening To It.

I Cannot Give A Single Concert At Which I Do Not Play One Piece After The Other In An Agony Of Terror Because My Memory Threatens To Fail Me. This Fear Torments Me For Days Beforehand.

I Cannot Be So Bad When Everybody Is So Fond Of Me.

I Once Believed That I Possessed Creative Talent, But I Have Given Up This Idea; A Woman Must Not Desire To Compose — There Has Never Yet Been One Able To Do It. Should I Expect To Be The One?

I Will Yield To Popular Demands Only Insofar As They Do Not Betray My Own Convictions.