If Only Your Pure And

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.

When I Wished To Sing Of Love, It Turned To Sorrow. And When I Wished To Sing Of Sorrow, It Was Transformed For Me Into Love.

The Greatest Misfortune Of The Wise Man And The Greatest Unhappiness Of The Fool Are Based Upon Convention.

One Bites Into The Brass Mouthpiece Of His Wooden Cudgel, And The Other Blows His Cheeks Out On A French Horn. Do You Call That Art?

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