No one feels another's grief.

The manager is to be blamed who distributes parts to his players which they are unable to act.

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.

Anyone who loves music can never be quite unhappy.

Happy is the man who finds a true friend, and far happier is he who finds that true friend in his wife.

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?