When you write the story of two happy lovers, let the story be set on the banks of Lake Como.

The music of the Gypsies belongs in the sphere of improvisation rather than in any other, without which it would have no power to exist.

Music embodies feeling without forcing it to contend and combine with thought, as it is forced in most arts and especially in the art of words.

In the oldest chronicles of the times conserved in Hungary, reports will be found of Gypsy music, but never of any other, either Magyar, Slavic or Jewish.

My piano is to me what a ship is to the sailor, what a steed is to the Arab. It is the intimate personal depository of everything that stirred wildly in my brain during the most impassioned days of my youth. It was there that all my wishes, all my dreams, all my joys, and all my sorrows lay.

The day will come when all nations amidst which the Jews are dwelling will have to raise the question of their wholesale expulsion, a question which will be one of life or death, good health or chronic disease, peaceful existence or perpetual social fever.

I foster a sorrowful conception of affection. Make no sacrifices.