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.

I love music passionately. And because I love it I try to free it from barren traditions that stifle it.

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.

First of all, ladies and gentlemen, you must forget that you are singers.

The trouble with the opera is there's always to much singing.

Beauty must appeal to the senses, must provide us with immediate enjoyment, must impress us or insinuate itself into us without any effort on our part.