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I am hitting my head against the walls, but the walls are giving way.
Don't bother looking at the view - I have already composed it.
Behind me the branches of a wasted and sterile existence are cracking.
It's not just a question of conquering a summit previously unknown, but of tracing, step by step, a new pathway to it.
I have become a different person. I don't know whether this person is better, he certainly is not happier.
I hope you will no longer accuse me of a lack of delicacy. as I now count on your understanding.
The call of love sounds very hollow among these immobile rocks.
If a composer could say what he had to say in words he would not bother trying to say it in music.
Even if people censure me, they should do so hat in hand.
I beg of you... never assume an inner or an outer pose, never a disguise.
