What was great about the 50s is that for one brief moment - maybe, say, six weeks - nobody understood art.

Since music has never had a Rembrandt, we have remained nothing more than musicians.

The composer makes plans, music laughs.

Do we have anything in music that really wipes everything out? That just cleans everything away?

For years I said if I could only find a comfortable chair I would rival Mozart.

We do not hear what we hear..., only what we remember.

The most interesting aspect for me, composing exclusively with patterns, is that there is not one organizational procedure more advantageous than another, perhaps because no one pattern ever takes precedence over the others