He who rides the sea of the Nile must have sails woven of patience.
I play the piano passionately and inaccurately. Indeed, I worked out the other day that of my seventy-five years; I have spent at least one year sitting on a piano stool.
My father was very musical, and music plays quite a large part in my life.
Sleep is when all the unsorted stuff comes flying out as from a dustbin upset in a high wind.
At the moment of vision, the eyes see nothing.
I think there might even come a time when I would read Virgil again. Ovid's Metamorphoses, perhaps, not because the music goes round and round and never comes out, but because it's an extraordinary picture of ceaseless change that never comes to an end.