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.

True music must repeat the thought and inspirations of the people and the time.

All great composers of the past spent most of their time studying. Feeling alone won't do the job. A man also needs technique.

All these tales of people sitting down and composing symphonies just as though they were writing a letter are very much exaggerated; at least, it isn't that way in my work.

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

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

I didn't even start playing the piano until I was about 13 or 14. I guess I must have had a little talent or whatever-you-call-it, but I practised regularly, and that's what counts.