Extreme Complication Is Contrary To Art.

Music Begins Where Words Are Powerless To Express. Music Is Made For The Inexpressible. I Want Music To Seem To Rise From The Shadows And Indeed Sometimes To Return To Them.

The Sound Of The Sea, The Curve Of A Horizon, Wind In Leaves, The Cry Of A Bird Leave Manifold Impression In Us. And Suddenly, Without Our Wishing It At All, One Of These Memories Spills From Us And Finds Expression In Musical Language...i Want To Sing My Interior Landscape With The Simple Artlessness Of A Child.

It Is Necessary To Abandon Yourself Completely, And Let The Music Do As It Will With You. All People Come To Music To Seek Oblivion.

The Attraction Of The Virtuoso For The Public Is Very Like That Of The Circus For The Crowd. There Is Always The Hope That Something Dangerous May Happen.

When Asked By A Grumpily Puzzled Professor What "rules" He Followed, Debussy Is Said To Have Retorted, Mon Plaisir "whatever I Please" And He Further Claimed That More Was To Be Gained By Watching The Sun Rise Than By Listening To The Pastoral Symphony. Although Such Remarks Were Intended To Shock, They Contain A Core Of Debussyan Verity.