My Eyes Close. I Am Here And

Music, Such Music, Is A Sufficient Gift. Why Ask For Happiness; Why Hope Not To Grieve? It Is Enough, It Is To Be Blessed Enough, To Live From Day To Day And To Hear Such Music-not Too Much, Or The Soul Could Not Sustain It-from Time To Time.

In Spite Of All Temptations Of Belonging To Many Nations, I've Remained An Indian.

Boredom Provides A Stronger Inclination To Write Than Anything.

I Just Love Music - By No Stretch Of The Imagination Am I Professionally Competent.

And An Equation Is The Same Whether It's Written In Red Or Green Ink