The conductor is a peculiar person. He turns his back on his friends in the audience, shakes a stick at his players in the orchestra, and then wonders why nobody loves him.

I do not have a single white note on my piano; my elephant smoked too much.

In my dreams of Heaven, I always see the great Masters gathered in a huge hall in which they all reside. Only Mozart has his own suite.

(Responding to a sneeze from the audience) Who exploded?

When I was a little boy and played Liebestraum, my father used to hit me on the head with a newspaper every time I slopped the cadenza . . . I hate Liebestraum.

Did you know that Mozart had no arms and no legs? I've seen statues of him on people's pianos.

Well, all's fair in love, war and fooling the critics.