Music Is Never Stationary; Successive Forms And

Real Men Are Sadly Lacking In This World, For When They Are Put To The Test They Prove Worthless.

My Mind And Fingers Have Worked Like The Damned. Homer, The Bible, Plato, Locke, Lamartine, Chateaubriand, Beethoven, Bach, Hummel, Mozart, Weber Are All Around Me. I Study Them. I Devour Them With Fury.

Life Is Only A Long And Bitter Suicide, And Faith Alone Can Transform This Suicide Into A Sacrifice.

As For Famous Men Who Were Not Artists, I Am Beginning To Be Tired Of Them. Those Poor Little Scoundrels Who Are Called Great Men Fill Me With Nothing But Overwhelming Horror.

In The Oldest Chronicles Of The Times Conserved In Hungary, Reports Will Be Found Of Gypsy Music, But Never Of Any Other, Either Magyar, Slavic Or Jewish.