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

Nobody understands another's sorrow, and nobody another's joy.

There are two contrary impulses which govern this man's brain-the one sane, and the other eccentric. They alternate at regular intervals.

No one feels another's grief, no one understands another's joy. People imagine they can reach one another. In reality they only pass each other by.

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

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

If only your pure and clean mind could touch me, dear Haydn, nobody has a greater reverence for you than I have.