If I Am Not Making Music, I

The Sound Of The Sea, The Curve Of A Horizon, Wind In Leaves, The Cry Of A Bird Leave Manifold Impression In Us. And Suddenly, Without Our Wishing It At All, One Of These Memories Spills From Us And Finds Expression In Musical Language...i Want To Sing My Interior Landscape With The Simple Artlessness Of A Child.

If I Am Not Making Music, I Have No Reason For Existing.

Music Is The Space Between The Notes.

Listen To No One's Advice Except That Of The Wind In The Trees. That Can Recount The Whole History Of Mankind.

I Wish To Sing Of My Interior Visions With The Naive Candour Of A Child.