The world goes on, stupid and brutal, but I do not. Can't you see? I do not.

I struggled for a long time to get anything published.

There is a ghost here. A lonely, heartbroken spirit. The ghost of everything that could've been and never was.

Voice is not just the sound that comes from your throat, but the feelings that come from your words.

When you can write music that endures, bravo. Until then, keep quiet and study the work of those who can.

Had you but seen it, I promise you, your high-minded principles would have melted like candle wax. Never would you have wished such beauty away.

He who cannot endure the bad will not live to see the good.