The World Resembles A Stage On Which

Why Should The Composer Be More Guilty Than The Poet Who Warms To Fantasy By A Strange Flame, Making An Idea That Inspires Him The Subject Of His Own Very Different Treatment?

Who Can Do Anything After Beethoven?

Approval Or Blame Will Follow In The World To Come.

Our Castle Is Not Imposing, But Is Well Built, And Surrounded By A Very Fine Garden. I Live In The Bailiff's House.

I Never Force Myself To Be Devout Except When I Feel So Inspired, And Never Compose Hymns Of Prayers Unless I Feel Within Me Real And True Devotion.