No One Feels Another's Grief.

No One Really Understands The Grief Or Joy Of Another. We Always Imagine That We Are Approaching Some Other, But Our Lines Of Travel Are Actually Parallel.

What A Picture Of A Better World You Have Given Us, Mozart!

No One Really Understands The Grief Or Joy Of Another.

I Am Composing Like A God, As If It Simply Had To Be Done As It Has Been Done.

Why Should The Composer Be More Guilty Than The Poet Who Warms To Fantasy By A Strange Flame, Making An Idea That Inspires Him The Subject Of His Own Very Different Treatment?