It Seemed Unthinkable For Me To Leave

In Praise Of Thy Goodness I Must Confess That Thou Didst Try With All Thy Means To Draw Me To Thee. Sometimes It Pleased Thee To Let Me Feel The Heavy Hand Of Thy Displeasure And To Humiliate My Proud Heart By Manifold Castigations. Sickness And Misfortune Didst Thou Send Upon Me To Turn My Thoughts To My Errantries.-one Thing, Only, O Father, Do I Ask: Cease Not To Labor For My Betterment. In Whatsoever Manner It Be, Let Me Turn To Thee And Become Fruitful In Good Works.

I Have Never Thought Of Writing For Reputation And Honor. What I Have In My Heart Must Come Out; That Is The Reason Why I Compose.

In The Country It Seems As If Every Tree Said To Me 'holy! Holy!' Who Can Ever Express The Ecstasy Of The Woods! Almighty One, In The Woods I Am Blessed. Happy Every One In The Woods. Every Tree Speaks Through Thee. O God! What Glory In The Woodland.

He That Divines The Secret Of My Music Is Freed From The Unhappiness That Haunts The Whole World Of Men.

From The Glow Of Enthusiasm I Let The Melody Escape. I Pursue It. Breathless I Catch Up With It. It Flies Again, It Disappears, It Plunges Into A Chaos Of Diverse Emotions. I Catch It Again, I Seize It, I Embrace It With Delight... I Multiply It By Modulations, And At Last I Triumph In The First Theme. There Is The Whole Symphony.