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

How much has to be explored and discarded before reaching the naked flesh of feeling.

I am more and more convinced that music is not, in essence, a thing which can be cast into a traditional and fixed form. It is made up of colors and rhythms.

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

There is no theory. You merely have to listen. Pleasure is the law.

Music is in the space between the notes.

But music, don't you know, is a dream from which the veils have been lifted. It's not even the expression of a feeling, it's the feeling itself.