How often have I actually discovered in myself that enthusiasm raises the artist above himself, how in an ordinary mood one would not have been able to accomplish many of the things for which enthusiasm lends one everything, energy, fire.

I will yield to popular demands only insofar as they do not betray my own convictions.

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.

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?

There is nothing greater than the joy of composing something oneself and then listening to it.