Love is in the air these days, so we thought we'd give a try to make your day a little brighter.

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

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 really understands the grief or joy of another. We always imagine that we are approaching some other, but our lines of travel are actually parallel.

What a picture of a better world you have given us, Mozart!

The world resembles a stage on which every man is playing a part.

Anyone who loves music can never be quite unhappy.