I have on my table a violin string. It is free to move in any direction I like. If I twist one end, it responds; it is free. But it is not free to sing. So I take it and fix it into my violin. I bind it and when it is bound, it is free for the first time to sing.

When I stand before thee at the day's end, thou shalt see my scars and know that I had my wounds and also my healing.

We gain freedom when we have paid the full price.

Melody and harmony are like lines and colors in pictures. A simple linear picture may be completely beautiful; the introduction of color may make it vague and insignificant. Yet color may, by combination with lines, create great pictures, so long as it does not smother and destroy their value.

We are like newborn children, Our power is the power to grow.

Ah, thou hast made my heart captive in the endless meshes of thy music, my master!

To the birds you gave songs, the birds gave you songs in return. You gave me only a voice, yet asked for more, thus I sing.