I Write [music] As A

I Will Gladly Give Lessons As A Favor, Particularly When I See That My Student Has Talent, Inclination, And Anxiety To Learn; But To Be Obliged To Go To A House At A Certain Hour, Or To Have To Wait At Home For A Pupil, Is What I Cannot Do, No Matter How Much Money It May Bring Me In. . . I Am A Composer And Was Born To Be A Kapellmeister. I Neither Can Nor Ought To Bury The Talent For Composition With Which God In His Goodness Has So Richly Endowed Me. . .

I Do Not Hear In My Imagination The Parts Successively, But I Hear Them Gleich Alles Zusammen - At The Same Time All Together.

An Astonishing Number Of Kisses Are Flying About! I See A Whole Crowd Of Them. Ha! Ha! I Have Just Caught Three - They Are Delicious... I Kiss You Millions Of Times.

If Germany, My Beloved Fatherland, Of Whom You Know I Am Proud, Will Not Accept Me, Then Must I, In The Name Of God, Again Make France Or England Richer By One Capable German - And To The Shame Of The German Nation.

I Have Never Written The Music That Was In My Heart To Write; Perhaps I Never Shall With This Brain And These Fingers, But I Know That Hereafter It Will Be Written; When Instead Of These Few Inlets Of The Senses Through Which We Now Secure Impressions From Without, There Shall Be A Flood Of Impressions From All Sides; And Instead Of These Few Tones Of Our Little Octave, There Shall Be An Infinite Scale Of Harmonies - For I Feel It - I Am Sure Of It. This World Of Music, Whose Borders Even Now I Have Scarcely Entered, Is A Reality, Is Immortal.