There are no fascinating people, only their works are fascinating.
It's not evil that's ruining the earth, but mediocrity. The crime is not that Nero played while Rome burned, but that he played badly.
Arguably, no artist grows up: If he sheds the perceptions of childhood, he ceases being an artist.
Bel canto is to opera what pole-vaulting is to ballet.
Love is a mystery which, when solved, evaporates. The same holds for music.
The hardest of all the arts to speak of is music, because music has no meaning to speak of