Does It Not Seem As If Mozart's

Think It A Vile Habit To Alter Works Of Good Composers, To Omit Parts Of Them, Or To Insert New-fashioned Ornaments. This Is The Greatest Insult You Can Offer To Art.

Can That Which Has Cost The Artist Days, Weeks, Months And Even Years Of Reflection Be Understood In A Flash By A Dilettante?

An Evil Fate Has Deprived Me Of The Full Use Of My Right Hand, So That I Am Not Able To Play My Compositions As I Feel Them. The Trouble With My Hand Is That Certain Fingers Have Become So Weak, Probably Through Writing And Playing Too Much At One Time, That I Can Hardly Use Them.

It Is The Curse Of Talent That, Although It Labors With Greater Steadiness And Perseverance Than Genius, It Does Not Reach Its Goal, While Genius Already On The Summit Of The Ideal, Gazes Laughingly About.

Perhaps Only A Genius Can Truly Understand Genius.