Everything We Feel Is Made Of Time.

What Was Evident Was That Mozart Was Simply Transcribing Music Completely Finished In His Head. And Finished As Most Music Is Never Finished. Displace One Note And There Would Be Diminishment. Displace One Phrase And Structure Would Fall. I Was Staring Through The Cage Of Those Meticulous Ink Strokes At Absolute Beauty.

I Was An Accomplice In My Own Frustration.

I Think People Nowadays Do Tend To Blame Their Parents For Everything.

Figaro Is A Bad Play. It Stirs Up Hatred Between The Classes. In France, It Has Caused Nothing But Bitterness. My Own Dear Sister,antoinette, Writes Me That She Is Beginning To Be Frightened Of Her Own People.

Can You Think Of Anything Worse One Can Do To Anybody Than Take Away Their Worship?