On those who overanalyze his music: When you tear the wings off a butterfly, it is no longer a butterfly

The age of automobiles and aeroplanes cannot express itself in the same manner as did the age of the diligence.

The sound of the sea, the curve of a horizon, wind in leaves, the cry of a bird leave manifold impression in us. And suddenly, without our wishing it at all, one of these memories spills from us and finds expression in musical language...I want to sing my interior landscape with the simple artlessness of a child.

If we look at the works of JS Bach ... on each page we discover things which we thought were born only yesterday, from delightful arabesques to an overflowing of religious feeling greater than anything we have since discovered.

I wish to sing of my interior visions with the naive candour of a child.

People come to music to seek oblivion: is that not also a form of deception?

People don't very much like things that are beautiful - they are so far from their nasty little minds.