Above all things, I must not get angry. If I do get angry I knock all the teeth out of the mouth of the poor wretch who has angered me.

I want you for always...days, years, eternities.

There are eight girls in the house in which I am living, and practically all of them are good looking. You can realize that I am kept busy.

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?

No one understands another's grief, no one understands another's joy... My music is the product of my talent and my misery. And that which I have written in my greatest distress is what the world seems to like best.

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.

No one feels another's grief.