Most People Use Music As A Couch;

There Is Something About Music That Keeps Its Distance Even At The Moment That It Engulfs Us. It Is At The Same Time Outside And Away From Us And Inside And Part Of Us. In One Sense It Dwarfs Us, And In Another We Master It. We Are Led On And On, And Yet In Some Strange Way We Never Lose Control.

If A Literary Man Puts Together Two Words About Music, One Of Them Will Be Wrong.

A Great Symphony Is A Man-made Mississippi Down Which We Irresistibly Flow From The Instant Of Our Leave-taking To A Long Forseen Destination.

You Compose Because You Want To Somehow Summarize In Some Permanent Form Your Most Basic Feelings About Being Alive, To Set Down Some Sort Of Permanent Statement About The Way It Feels To Live Now, Today.

Listening To The Fifth Symphony Of Ralph Vaughan Williams Is Like Staring At A Cow For 45 Minutes.