My whole life has been a twenty years struggle between poetry and prose, or, if you like to call it so, Music and Law.

It was an unforgettable picture to see Chopin sitting at the piano like a clairvoyant, lost in his dreams; to see how his vision communicated itself through his playing, and how, at the end of each piece, he had the sad habit of running one finger over the length of the plaintive keyboard, as though to tear himself forcibly away from his dream.

A fiery, good beginner always stands higher than a master in mediocrity.

Think it a vile habit to alter works of good composers, to omit parts of them, or to insert new-fashioned ornaments. This is the greatest insult you can offer to Art.

When young, one learns his craftsmanship, may become a young master, and it is youth that is most auspicious for developing certain skills.

People compose for many reasons, to become immortal; because the piano happens to be open; because they want to become a millionaire; because of the praise of friends; because they have looked into a pair of beautiful eyes; or for no reason whatsoever.

You should neither play bad compositions, nor, unless compelled, listen to them.