What I really want from Music: That it be cheerful and profound like an afternoon in October.

We should turn our death into a celebration, even if only out of a malice towards life: towards the woman who wants to leave--us!

Truth is only an illusion we have forgotten is an illusion.

What do we have in common with the rosebud, which trembles because a drop of dew lies on its body?

Of what is great one must either be silent or speak with greatness. With greatness--that means cynically and with innocence.

In a seriously intended intellectual emancipation a person's mute passions and cravings also hope to find their advantage.

Art is essentially the affirmation, the blessing, and the deification of existence.