The greatest misfortune of the wise man and the greatest unhappiness of the fool are based upon convention.

When I wished to sing of love, it turned to sorrow. And when I wished to sing of sorrow, it was transformed for me into love.

Who can do anything after Beethoven?

Easy mind, light heart. A mind that is too easy hides a heart that is too heavy.

Every night when I go to bed, I hope that I may never wake again, and every morning renews my grief.

It sometimes seems to me as if I do not belong to this world at all. I deplore music that engenders in people not love but madness: which rouses them to scornful laughter instead of lifting their thoughts to God.

I am composing like a god, as if it simply had to be done as it has been done.