Life is the space between our things.
On those who overanalyze his music: When you tear the wings off a butterfly, it is no longer a butterfly
Anyone who calls my music "impressionist" is an imbecile.
Extreme complication is contrary to art.
The colour of my soul is iron-grey and sad bats wheel about the steeple of my dreams.
People don't very much like things that are beautiful - they are so far from their nasty little minds.