...you must play for the little fellow in the last row of the balcony who only has fifty cents to pay for a ticket.

For forty years I have play the oboe, and still I never know what is coming out. It is a perpetual anxiety. But maybe this is good-I have never the time to get myself bored.

Your playing is like salt water taffy. You see all the beautiful colors, red, yellow, blue, but they all taste the same.

...you must play for the little fellow in the last row of the balcony who only has fifty cents to pay for a ticket.

I am very moody when I cook. I cook according to the way I feel at the moment. A little of this, a little of that, and almost always a coupcon of garlic. I never proceed by the rules.