The Greatest Misfortune Of The Wise Man

If Only Your Pure And Clean Mind Could Touch Me, Dear Haydn, Nobody Has A Greater Reverence For You Than I Have.

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

Above All Things, I Must Not Get Angry. If I Do Get Angry I Knock All The Teeth Out Of The Mouth Of The Poor Wretch Who Has Angered Me.

I Want You For Always...days, Years, Eternities.

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?