Every Night When I Go To Bed,

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.

The World Resembles A Stage On Which Every Man Is Playing A Part.

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

If Only Your Pure And Clean Mind Could Touch Me, Dear Haydn, Nobody Has A Greater Reverence For You Than I Have.

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?