You Ask Me Where I Get My Ideas. That I Cannot Tell You With Certainty. They Come Unsummoned, Directly, Indirectly - I Could Seize Them With My Hands - Out In The Open Air, In The Woods, While Walking, In The Silence Of The Nights, At Dawn, Excited By Moods Which Are Translated By The Poet Into Words, By Me Into Tones That Sound And Roar And Storm About Me Till I Have Set Them Down In Notes.
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You Ask Me Where I Get My
Ludwig Van Beethoven
You Ask Me Where I Get My Ideas. That I Cannot Tell You With Certainty. They Come Unsummoned, Directly, Indirectly - I Could Seize Them With My Hands - Out In The Open Air, In The Woods, While Walking, In The Silence Of The Nights, At Dawn, Excited By Moods Which Are Translated By The Poet Into Words, By Me Into Tones That Sound And Roar And Storm About Me Till I Have Set Them Down In Notes.
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