We Only Hear What We Listen For.

What Is The Purpose Of Writing Music? One Is, Of Course, Not Dealing With Purposes But Dealing With Sounds. Or The Answer Must Take The Form Of A Paradox: A Purposeful Purposeless Or A Purposeless Play. This Play, However, Is An Affirmation Of Life--not An Attempt To Bring Order Out Of Chaos Nor To Suggest Improvements In Creation, But Simply A Way Of Waking Up To The Very Life We’re Living, Which Is So Excellent Once One Gets One’s Mind And One’s Desires Out Of Its Way And Lets It Act Of Its Own Accord.

If Something Is Boring After Two Minutes, Try It For Four. If Still Boring, Then Eight. Then Sixteen. Then Thirty-two. Eventually One Discovers That It Is Not Boring At All.

Where Does Beauty Begin? Where Does It End? Where It Ends Is Where The Artist Begins.

A Sound Does Not View Itself As Thought, As Ought, As Needing Another Sound For Its Elucidation, As Etc.; It Has Not Time For Any Consideration--it Is Occupied With The Performance Of Its Characteristics: Before It Has Died Away It Must Have Made Perfectly Exact Its Frequency, Its Loudness, Its Length, Its Overtone Structure, The Precise Morphology Of These And Of Itself.

I Can't Understand Why People Are Frightened Of New Ideas. I'm Frightened Of The Old Ones.