There Are Only Twelve Tones

Our Spirit Of Life Is Not Identical With That Of Our Ancestors, And Therefore Their Music, Even If Restored With Utter Technical Perfections, Can Never Have To Us Precisely The Same Meaning It Had For Them. We Cannot Tear Down The Barricade That Separates The Present World From Things And Deeds Past.

The Reactions Music Evokes Are Not Feelings, But They Are The Images, Memories Of Feelings.

My God, How Can Anyone Ever Be A Master Of Music?

Music, As Long As It Exists, Will Always Take Its Departure From The Major Triad And Return To It. The Musician Cannot Escape It Any More Than The Painter His Primary Colors Or The Architect His Three Dimensions.

People Who Make Music Together Cannot Be Enemies, At Least While The Music Lasts.