The Real Artist Has No Idea That

The Sincerity Of The Art Worker Must Permeate The Song As Naturally As The Green Leaves Break Through The Dead Branches In Springtime.

Acquiring A Repertoire In These Days, When The Vocal Literature Is So Immense, So Overwhelming, That The Student With Sense Will Devote All His Energies To Work And Not Imagine Himself A Martyr To Art.

One Does Not Study For A Goal. The Goal Is A Mere Accident.

The Student Who Deceives Himself Into Thinking That He Is Giving His Life Like An Ascetic In The Spirit Of Sacrifice For Art, Is The Victim Of A Deplorable Species Of Egotism.

Just As The Bird Sings Or The Butterfly Soars, Because It Is His Natural Characteristic, So The Artist Works.