I go dreaming into the future, where I see nothing, nothing. I have no plans, no idea, no project, and, what is worse, no ambition. Something – the eternal ‘what’s the use?’ – sets its bronze barrier across every avenue that I open up in the realm of hypothesis.

Success is a consequence and must not be a goal. I've never sought it (though I desire it) and seek it less and less.

I had, as I told you, a great passion while still almost a child. When it was over, I divided myself in two, placing on one side the soul I kept for Art, and on the other, my body, which would have to fend for itself.

As for the piano, the faster her fingers flew over it, the more he marveled. She struck the keys with aplomb and ran from one end of the keyboard to the other without a stop.

Beautiful things spoil nothing.

The principal thing in the world is to keep the soul aloft.

How we keep these dead souls in our hearts. Each one of us carries within himself his necropolis.