From The Glow Of Enthusiasm I Let

Beethoven Can Write Music, Thank God, But He Can Do Nothing Else On Earth.

I Shall Hear In Heaven.

The Real Artist Has No Pride. Unfortunately He Sees That His Art Has No Limits. He Feels Obscurely How Far He Is From The Goal. While He Is Perhaps Being Admired By Others, He Mourns The Fact That He Has Not Yet Reached The Point To Which His Better Genius, Like A Distant Sun, Ever Beckons To Him.

Anyone Who Tells A Lie Has Not A Pure Heart, And Cannot Make A Good Soup.

When I Open My Eyes I Must Sigh, For What I See Is Contrary To My Religion, And I Must Despise The World Which Does Not Know That Music Is A Higher Revelation Than All Wisdom And Philosophy.