Not many composers have ideas. Far more of them know how to use strange instruments which do not require ideas.

Out of my entire annual output of songs, perhaps two, or at the most three, came as a result of inspiration. We can never rely on inspiration. When we most want it, it does not come.

My people are Americans. My time is today.

For suddenly, I saw you there And through foggy London town The sun was shining everywhere.

Summertime And the living is easy Fish are jumpin' And the cotton is high Oh, your daddy's rich And your mama's good lookin' So hush little baby now don't you cry One of these mornin's You're gonna rise up singin' Then you'll spread your wings And take to the sky But til that mornin' Ain't nothin' can harm you With your daddy And your mammy standin' by.

Upper berth, lower berth, that's the difference between talent and genius.

It sounds simple, of course, but personally I can think of no more mentally arduous task than making music.