Since Age Seven, I've Been Composing And

In The Nineteenth Century The More Grandiose Word Inspiration Began To Replace The Word Idea In The Arts.

There Is Another Interesting Paradox Here: By Immersing Ourselves In What We Love, We Find Ourselves. We Do Not Lose Ourselves. One Does Not Lose One's Identity By Falling In Love.

Boulez's Only Concern Is With Power. He Lost The Leadership Of The Avant-guard More Than Ten Years Ago To Stockhausen. Now Others Have Moved In. With The Need For Power, Where Was He To Go? So He Chose To Be A Conductor. He Is A Wonderful Musician, A Wonderful Intelligence. It's A Pity There Is No Humanity There. Does He Have Sex? I Think Not. When Men Have No Sex, They Go After Power In This Big, Obsessive Way.

Anybody Can Put Things Together That Belong Together. To Put Things Together That Don't Go Together, And Make It Work, That Takes Genius Like Mozart's. Yet He Is Presented In The Play Amadeus As A Kind Of Silly Boy Whom The Gods Loved.

Composing Is Like Making Love To The Future.