A man endures misfortune without complaint.

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

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

A man endures misfortune without complaint.

When all hopes of recognition or honor have faded into distant memory, when purity of heart meets sorrow of mind, when all the world seems to walk in blindness and yet a man works without wearying for that which he loves...only in this moment is passion truly understood

Why does God endow us with compassion?

Our castle is not imposing, but is well built, and surrounded by a very fine garden. I live in the bailiff's house.