I Am Composing Like A

One Bites Into The Brass Mouthpiece Of His Wooden Cudgel, And The Other Blows His Cheeks Out On A French Horn. Do You Call That Art?

I Try To Decorate My Imagination As Much As I Can.

Who Can Do Anything After Beethoven?

There Is No Such Thing As Happy Music.

No One Feels Another's Grief, No One Understands Another's Joy. People Imagine They Can Reach One Another. In Reality They Only Pass Each Other By.