Mediocrity borrows, genius steals.

The one true comment on a piece of music is another piece of music.

A plague on eminence! I hardly dare cross the street any more without a convoy, and I am stared at wherever I go like an idiot member of a royal family or an animal in a zoo; and zoo animals have been known to die from stares.

Silence will save me from being wrong (and foolish), but it will also deprive me of the possibility of being right.

I live neither in the past nor in the future. I am in the present. I cannot know what tomorrow will bring forth. I can know only what the truth is for me today. That is what I am called upon to serve, and I serve it in all lucidity.

Why is it that whenever I hear a piece of music I don't like, it's always by Villa Lobos?

One has a nose. The nose scents and it chooses. An artist is simply a kind of pig snouting truffles.