The Tea Is Ice-cold, The

I Once Believed That I Possessed Creative Talent, But I Have Given Up This Idea; A Woman Must Not Desire To Compose — There Has Never Yet Been One Able To Do It. Should I Expect To Be The One?

I Wish To Lead A Life Free From Care, And I See That I Shall Be Unhappy If I Cannot Always Work At My Art.

I Will Yield To Popular Demands Only Insofar As They Do Not Betray My Own Convictions.

Composing Gives Me Great Pleasure... There Is Nothing That Surpasses The Joy Of Creation, If Only Because Through It One Wins Hours Of Self-forgetfulness, When One Lives In A World Of Sound.

I Cannot Give A Single Concert At Which I Do Not Play One Piece After The Other In An Agony Of Terror Because My Memory Threatens To Fail Me. This Fear Torments Me For Days Beforehand.