I Cannot Be So Bad When Everybody

The Tea Is Ice-cold, The Room Grows Colder And Colder, But I Grow Warmer And Warmer.

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.

Is An Artist Much More Than A Beggar?

If I Have Known Much Trouble In My Youth, I Have Also Known Much Joy.

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?