The guitar is a wonderful instrument which is understood by few.

One bites into the brass mouthpiece of his wooden cudgel, and the other blows his cheeks out on a French horn. Do you call that Art?

O Mozart, immortal Mozart, how many, how infinitely many inspiring suggestions of a finer, better life you have left in our souls!

My compositions spring from my sorrows. Those that give the world the greatest delight were born of my deepest griefs.

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

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

Why should the composer be more guilty than the poet who warms to fantasy by a strange flame, making an idea that inspires him the subject of his own very different treatment?