Can You Think Of Anything

What Was Evident Was That Mozart Was Simply Transcribing Music Completely Finished In His Head. And Finished As Most Music Is Never Finished. Displace One Note And There Would Be Diminishment. Displace One Phrase And Structure Would Fall. I Was Staring Through The Cage Of Those Meticulous Ink Strokes At Absolute Beauty.

He'll Be Delivered From Madness. What Then? He'll Feel Himself Acceptable! What Then? Do You Think Feelings Like His Can Be Simply Re-attached, Like Plasters? Stuck On To Other Objects We Select? Look At Him! ... My Desire Might Be To Make This Boy An Ardent Husband - A Caring Citizen - A Worshipper Of Abstract And Unifying God. My Achievement, However, Is More Likely To Make A Ghost!

Passion, You See, Can Be Destroyed By A Doctor. It Cannot Be Created.

I Was An Accomplice In My Own Frustration.

All I Ever Wanted Was To Sing To God. He Gave Me That Longing And Then Made Me Mute.