I Write [music] As A Sow Piddles.

I Thank My God For Graciously Granting Me The Opportunity Of Learning That Death Is The Key Which Unlocks The Door To Our True Happiness.

The Taste Of Death Is Upon My Lips. I Feel Something That Is Not Of This Earth.

I Cannot Write In Verse, For I Am No Poet. I Cannot Arrange The Parts Of Speech With Such Art As To Produce Effects Of Light And Shade, For I Am No Painter. Even By Signs And Gestures I Cannot Express My Thoughts And Feelings, For I Am No Dancer. But I Can Do So By Means Of Sounds, For I Am A Musician.

I Choose Such Notes That Love One Another.

A Man Of Ordinary Talent Will Always Be Ordinary, Whether He Travels Or Not; But A Man Of Superior Talent (which I Cannot Deny Myself To Be Without Being Impious) Will Go To Pieces If He Remains Forever In The Same Place.