Tradition Is The Spreading Of

A True Personality . . . Is Like A Robust Organism That, With Unconscious Sureness, Seeks Out And Digests The Nourishment Appropriate To It And Vigorously Rejects That Which Is Unsuitable.

Behind Me The Branches Of A Wasted And Sterile Existence Are Cracking.

Spring Won't Let Me Stay In This House Any Longer! I Must Get Out And Breathe The Air Deeply Again.

I Hope You Will No Longer Accuse Me Of A Lack Of Delicacy. As I Now Count On Your Understanding.

If I Weren't The Way I Am, I Shouldn't Write My Symphonies.