I can do nothing but think of you... What have you done to me? Can't you remove the spell you have cast over me?

But what a humiliation for me when someone standing next to me heard a flute in the distance and I heard nothing, or someone standing next to me heard a shepherd singing and again I heard nothing. Such incidents drove me almost to despair; a little more of that and I would have ended my life - it was only my art that held me back.

I change many things, discard others, and try again and again until I am satisfied; then, in my head, I being to elaborate the work in its breadth, its narrowness, its height, its depth...I hear and see the image in front of me from every angle as if it had been cast and only the labour of writing it down remains.

Only art and science make us suspect the existence of life to a higher level, and maybe also instill hope thereof.

I have always reckoned myself among the greatest admirers of Mozart, and shall do so till the day of my death.

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.

After Rossini dies, who will be there to promote his music?