The oldest, truest, most beautiful organ of music, the origin to which alone our music owes its being, is the human voice.

Blessed be, the genius who never knew good fortune! Genius in itself already means so much; what meaning does luck still hold for him?

Human dignity begins to assert itself only at the point where man is distinguishable from the beast by pity for it.

True drama can be conceived only as resulting from the collective impulse of all the arts to communicate in the most immediate way with a collective public... Thus especially the art of tone, developed with such singular diversity in instrumental music, will realize in the collective artwork its richest potential -- will indeed incite the pantomimic art of dancing in turn to wholly new discoveries and inspire the breath of poetry no less to an undreamed-of fullness. For in its isolation music has formed itself an organ capable of the most immeasurable expression - the orchestra.

Many's the man/ who thought himself wise/ but what he needed/ he did not know.

That even in its sharpest pangs of pain a dog can still caress its master we have learnt from the studies of vivisectors.

Even if I know I shall never change the masses, never transform anything permanent, all I ask is that the good things also have their place, their refuge.