No One Really Understands The Grief Or

When All Hopes Of Recognition Or Honor Have Faded Into Distant Memory, When Purity Of Heart Meets Sorrow Of Mind, When All The World Seems To Walk In Blindness And Yet A Man Works Without Wearying For That Which He Loves...only In This Moment Is Passion Truly Understood

When I Wished To Sing Of Love, It Turned To Sorrow. And When I Wished To Sing Of Sorrow, It Was Transformed For Me Into Love.

One Bites Into The Brass Mouthpiece Of His Wooden Cudgel, And The Other Blows His Cheeks Out On A French Horn. Do You Call That Art?

I Am In The World Only For The Purpose Of Composing.

No One Feels Another's Grief, No One Understands Another's Joy. People Imagine They Can Reach One Another. In Reality They Only Pass Each Other By.