Handel, To Him I Bow The Knee.

Let Your Deafness No Longer Be A Secret - Even In Art.

I Have Never Thought Of Writing For Reputation And Honor. What I Have In My Heart Must Come Out; That Is The Reason Why I Compose.

The Real Artist Has No Pride. Unfortunately He Sees That His Art Has No Limits. He Feels Obscurely How Far He Is From The Goal. While He Is Perhaps Being Admired By Others, He Mourns The Fact That He Has Not Yet Reached The Point To Which His Better Genius, Like A Distant Sun, Ever Beckons To Him.

In The Country It Seems As If Every Tree Said To Me 'holy! Holy!' Who Can Ever Express The Ecstasy Of The Woods! Almighty One, In The Woods I Am Blessed. Happy Every One In The Woods. Every Tree Speaks Through Thee. O God! What Glory In The Woodland.

This Is The Mark Of A Really Admirable Man: Steadfastness In The Face Of Trouble.