It is quite untrue that British people don’t appreciate music. They may not understand it but they absolutely love the noise it makes.
I prefer Offenbach to Bach often.
No woman is worth the loss of a night’s sleep.
If an opera cannot be played by an organ grinder, it’s not going to achieve immortality.
No operatic star has yet died soon enough for me.
Magical music never leaves the memory.
If she is attractive, I can’t perform with her; if she is not, then I won’t.
They are quite hopeless – drooling, driveling, doleful, depressing, dropsical drips.
All the arts in America are a gigantic racket run by unscrupulous men for unhealthy women.
We cannot expect you to be with us all the time, but perhaps you could be good enough to keep in touch now and again.
The British like any kind of music so long as it is loud.
Music first and last should sound well, should allure and enchant the ear. Never mind the inner significance.
Too much counterpoint; what is worse, Protestant counterpoint.
In the first movement alone, I took note of six pregnancies and at least four miscarriages.
I have just been all round the world and have formed a very poor opinion of it.
Movie music is noise. It’s even more painful than my sciatica.
Beethoven’s last quartets were written by a deaf man and should only be listened to by a deaf man.
The bagpipes sound exactly the same when you have finished as when you started.
Without question the most unpopular medium of musical sound in the world.
Try everything once, except folk dancing and incest.
Most people really don’t like music – they just like the way it sounds.