I Liked Your Opera. I Think I

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.

Nothing Is More Intolerable Than To Have To Admit To Yourself Your Own Errors.

In The World Of Art, As In The Whole Of Creation, Freedom And Progress Are The Main Objectives.

Art! Who Comprehends Her? With Whom Can One Consult Concerning This Great Goddess?

Whoever Tells A Lie Is Not Pure Of Heart, And Such A Person Can Not Cook A Clean Soup.