Bach Is Like An Astronomer Who, With

I Am Not Fitted To Give Concerts. The Audience Intimidates Me, I Feel Choked By Its Breath, Paralyzed By Its Curious Glances, Struck Dumb By All Those Strange Faces.

Liszt Commenting On The Music Of Frédéric Chopin: He Confided . . . Those Inexpressible Sorrows To Which The Pious Give Vent In Their Communication With Their Maker. What They Never Say Except Upon Their Knees, He Said In His Palpitating Compositions.

Play Mozart In Memory Of Me - And I Will Hear You.

Oh, How Miserable It Is To Have No One To Share Your Sorrows And Joys, And, When Your Heart Is Heavy, To Have No Soul To Whom You Can Pour Out Your Woes.

Nothing Is More Beautiful Than The Sound Of The Guitar.