Beethoven can write music, thank God, but he can do nothing else on earth.

The world is a king, and like a king, desires flattery in return for favor; but true art is selfish and perverse — it will not submit to the mold of flattery.

I have never thought of writing for reputation and honor. What I have in my heart must come out; that is the reason why I compose.

How glad I am to be able to roam in the wood and thicket, among trees and flowers and rocks ... in the country, every tree seems to speak to me, saying, "Holy! Holy", in the woods, there is enchantment which expresses all things.

In the country It seems as if every tree Said to me 'Holy! Holy!' Who can ever express The ecstasy of the woods! Almighty One, In the woods I am blessed. Happy every one in the woods. Every tree speaks through Thee. O God! What glory in the woodland.

When I open my eyes I must sigh, for what I see is contrary to my religion, and I must despise the world which does not know that music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy.

To play without passion is inexcusable!