Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its pupils.
Life when one first arrives is a continual mortification as one’s romantic illusions are successively shattered and the musical treasure-house of one’s imagination crumbles before the hopelessness of the reality. Every day fresh experiences bring fresh disappointments.
He was dying all his life.
Time is a great teacher, but ufortunately, it kills all its pupils...
Time is a great teacher. Too bad it kills all of its pupils.
Love cannot express the idea of music, while music may give an idea of love.
At least I have the modesty to admit that lack of modesty is one of my failings.
Time, time – that is our greatest master! Alas, like Ugolino, time devours its own children.
To render my works properly requires a combination of extreme precision and irresistible verve, a regulated vehemence, a dreamy tenderness, and an almost morbid melancholy.
It is not enough that the artist should be well prepared for the public. The public must be well prepared for what it is going to hear.
The luck of having talent is not enough; one must also have a talent for luck.
Only by pairing knowledge with inspiration will art evolve. Without these conditions any musician will remain a flawed artist, if one may speak of an artist at all.
Bach is Bach just as God is God.
A feeble mind, conscious of its own feebleness, grows feeble under that very consciousness. As soon as the power of fear becomes known to it, there follows the fear of fear, and, on the first perturbation, reason abandons it.
If men of genius only knew what love their works inspire!
Music and love are the wings of the soul.