The Attraction Of The Virtuoso For The

Art Is The Most Beautiful Deception Of All! And Although People Try To Incorporate The Everyday Events Of Life In It, We Must Hope That It Will Remain A Deception Lest It Become A Utilitarian Thing, Sad As A Factory.

I Am More And More Convinced That Music Is Not, In Essence, A Thing Which Can Be Cast Into A Traditional And Fixed Form. It Is Made Up Of Colors And Rhythms.

Music Is The Space Between The Notes.

When Asked By A Grumpily Puzzled Professor What "rules" He Followed, Debussy Is Said To Have Retorted, Mon Plaisir "whatever I Please" And He Further Claimed That More Was To Be Gained By Watching The Sun Rise Than By Listening To The Pastoral Symphony. Although Such Remarks Were Intended To Shock, They Contain A Core Of Debussyan Verity.

On Those Who Overanalyze His Music: When You Tear The Wings Off A Butterfly, It Is No Longer A Butterfly