Only The Flint Of A Man's Mind

Life Would Be Flat Without Music. It Is The Background To All I Do. It Speaks To The Heart In Its Own Special Way Like Nothing Else.

After Rossini Dies, Who Will Be There To Promote His Music?

I Know Of No More Sacred Duty Than To Rear And Educate A Child.

I Can Do Nothing But Think Of You... What Have You Done To Me? Can't You Remove The Spell You Have Cast Over Me?

You Ask Me Where I Get My Ideas. That I Cannot Tell You With Certainty. They Come Unsummoned, Directly, Indirectly - I Could Seize Them With My Hands - Out In The Open Air, In The Woods, While Walking, In The Silence Of The Nights, At Dawn, Excited By Moods Which Are Translated By The Poet Into Words, By Me Into Tones That Sound And Roar And Storm About Me Till I Have Set Them Down In Notes.