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 never force myself to be devout except when I feel so inspired, and never compose hymns of prayers unless I feel within me real and true devotion.

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.

I try to decorate my imagination as much as I can.

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.

Approval or blame will follow in the world to come.