You appear in the Novelletten in every possible circumstance, in every irresistible form... They could only be written by one who knows such eyes as yours and has touched such lips as yours.

The tea is ice-cold, the room grows colder and colder, but I grow warmer and warmer.

I once believed that I possessed creative talent, but I have given up this idea; a woman must not desire to compose — there has never yet been one able to do it. Should I expect to be the one?

I cannot give a single concert at which I do not play one piece after the other in an agony of terror because my memory threatens to fail me. This fear torments me for days beforehand.

I wish to lead a life free from care, and I see that I shall be unhappy if I cannot always work at my art.

Why hurry over beautiful things? Why not linger and enjoy them?

If I have known much trouble in my youth, I have also known much joy.