The Artist Belongs To His Work, Not

What Delights, What Pleasures Does Your Life Offer You That Outweigh The Raptures Of Death?

Every Disease Is A Musical Problem. Its Cure A Musical Solution. The More Rapid And Complete The Solution, The Greater The Musical Talent Of The Doctor.

Every Disease Is A Musical Problem; Every Cure Is A Musical Solution.

Sometimes With The Most Intense Pain A Paralysis Of Sensibility Occurs. The Soul Disintegrates--hence The Deadly Frost--the Free Power Of The Mind--the Shattering, Ceaseless Wit Of This Kind Of Despair. There Is No Inclination For Anything Any More--the Person Is Alone, Like A Baleful Power--as He Has No Connection With The Rest Of The World He Consumes Himself Gradually--and In Accordance With His Own Principle He Is--misanthropic And Misotheos.

Imagination Places The Future World For Us Either Above Or Below Or In Reincarnation. We Dream Of Travels Throughout The Universe: Is Not The Universe Within Us? We Do Not Know The Depths Of Our Spirit. The Mysterious Path Leads Within. In Us, Or Nowhere, Lies Eternity With Its Worlds, The Past And The Future.