Where Books Are Burnt, Men Finish Up

There Are More Fools In The World Than There Are People.

In These Times We Fight For Ideas And Newspapers Are Our Fortress.

All I Really Want Is Enough To Live On, A Little House In The Country... And A Tree In The Garden With Seven Of My Enemies Hanging In It.

Nothing Is More Futile Than Theorizing About Music. No Doubt There Are Laws, Mathematically Strict Laws, But These Laws Are Not Music; They Are Only Its Conditions? The Essence Of Music Is Revelation.

The Violets Prattle And Titter, And Gaze On The Stars High Above.