Sometimes I Can Only Groan, And Suffer,

I Am Gay On The Outside, Especially Among My Own Folk (i Count Poles My Own); But Inside Something Gnaws At Me; Some Presentiment, Anxiety, Dreams - Or Sleeplessness - Melancholy, Indifference - Desire For Life, And The Next Instant, Desire For Death; Some Kind Of Sweet Peace, Some Kind Of Numbness, Absent-mindedness.

Simplicity Is The Final Achievement. After One Has Played A Vast Quantity Of Notes And More Notes, It Is Simplicity That Emerges As The Crowning Reward Of Art.

I Wish I Could Throw Off The Thoughts Which Poison My Happiness, But I Take A Kind Of Pleasure In Indulging Them.

A Strange Adventure Befell Me While I Was Playing My Sonata In B Flat Minor Before Some English Friends. I Had Played The Allegro And The Scherzo More Or Less Correctly. I Was About To Attack The March When Suddenly I Saw Arising From The Body Of My Piano Those Cursed Creatures Which Had Appeared To Me One Lugubrious Night At The Chartreuse. I Had To Leave For One Instant To Pull Myself Together After Which I Continued Without Saying Anything.

I Could Express My Feelings More Easily If They Could Be Put Into The Notes Of Music, But As The Very Best Concert Would Not Cover My Affection For You, Dear Daddy, I Must Use The Simple Words Of My Heart, To Lay Before You My Utmost Gratitude And Filial Affection