We are involved in a life that passes understanding and our highest business is our daily life.
Everyday is a beautiful day, Everything is pleasing.
If someone says can’t, that shows you what to do.
Now that we have everything we need, we discover that there is almost nothing that we have that we want.
Food, one assumes, provides nourishment; but Americans eat it fully aware that small amounts of poison have been added to improve its appearance and delay its putrefaction.
My work became an exploration of non-intention.
If this word “music” is sacred and reserved for eighteenth and nineteenth century instruments, we can substitute a more meaningful term: organization of sound.
Composing for the prepared piano is not a criticism of the instrument. I’m only being practical.
There’s no such thing as silence. Something is always happening that makes a sound.
If you don’t have enough time to accomplish something, consider the work finished once it’s begun.
A finished work is exactly that, requires resurrection.
Where does beauty begin? Where does it end? Where it ends is where the artist begins.
An artist conscientiously moves in a direction which for some good reason he takes, putting one work in front of the other with the hope he’ll arrive before death overtakes him.
Theatre takes place all the time – wherever one is – and art simply facilitates persuading one this is the case.
Art is sort of an experimental station in which one tries out living.
For myself and my own experience now, I don’t really need any music. I have enough to listen to with just the sounds of the environment. I listen to the sounds of 6th avenue.
My favorite music is the music I haven’t yet heard.
Don’t try to create and analyze at the same time. They’re different processes.
Let no one imagine that in owning a recording he has the music. The very practice of music is a celebration that we own nothing.
To accept whatever comes, regardless of the consequences, is to be unafraid.