Those are miracles that no merely human brain can work. The artist is merely the sound conduct of a Force that dictates to him what he should do.

How lucky is the man who, like Mozart and others, goes to the tavern of an evening and writes some fresh music. For he lives while he is creating.

For the shallow delights of matrimony and opera I have no courage.

Composers in the old days used to keep strictly to the base of the theme, as their real subject. Beethoven varies the melody, harmony and rhythms so beautifully.

The idea comes to me from outside of me - and is like a gift. I then take the idea and make it my own - that is where the skill lies.

A symphony is no joke.

If we cannot write with the beauty of Mozart, let us at least try to write with his purity.