This Is Not A Brook [bach Means

I Liked Your Opera. I Think I Will Set It To Music.

We Mortals With Immortal Minds Are Only Born For Sufferings And Joys, And One Could Almost Say That The Most Excellent Receive Joy Through Sufferings.

No Friend Have I. I Must Live By Myself Alone; But I Know Well That God Is Nearer To Me Than Others In My Art, So I Will Walk Fearlessly With Him.

Music Is Like A Dream. One That I Cannot Hear.

I Carry My Thoughts About With Me For A Long Time... Before Writing Them Down... Once I Have Grasped A Theme. I Shall Not Forget It Even Years Later. I Change Many Things, Discard Others, And Try Again And Again Until I Am Satisfied; Then, In My Head... [the Work] Rises, It Grows, I Hear And See The Image N Front Of Me From Every Angle... And Only The Labor Of Writing It Down Remains... I Turn My Ideas Into Tones That Resound, Roar, And Rage Until At Last They Stand Before Me In The Form Of Notes.