I Try To Decorate My Imagination As

When All Hopes Of Recognition Or Honor Have Faded Into Distant Memory, When Purity Of Heart Meets Sorrow Of Mind, When All The World Seems To Walk In Blindness And Yet A Man Works Without Wearying For That Which He Loves...only In This Moment Is Passion Truly Understood

No One Feels Another's Grief, No One Understands Another's Joy. People Imagine They Can Reach One Another. In Reality They Only Pass Each Other By.

No One Really Understands The Grief Or Joy Of Another.

No One Understands Another's Grief, No One Understands Another's Joy... My Music Is The Product Of My Talent And My Misery. And That Which I Have Written In My Greatest Distress Is What The World Seems To Like Best.

Our Castle Is Not Imposing, But Is Well Built, And Surrounded By A Very Fine Garden. I Live In The Bailiff's House.