Time Is The Best Of Critics; And

Bach Is An Astronomer, Discovering The Most Marvellous Stars. Beethoven Challenges The Universe. I Only Try To Express The Soul And The Heart Of Man.

We Fell Silent And All Joking Ceased. We Gazed Mutely Into Each Other's Eyes And An Intense Longing For The Fullest Avowal Of The Truth Forced Us To A Confession, Requiring No Words Whatever, Or The Incommensurable Misfortune That Weighed Upon Us. With Tears And Sobs We Sealed A Vow To Belong To Each Other Alone.

I Am Gay On The Outside, Especially Among My Own Folk (i Count Poles My Own); But Inside Something Gnaws At Me; Some Presentiment, Anxiety, Dreams - Or Sleeplessness - Melancholy, Indifference - Desire For Life, And The Next Instant, Desire For Death; Some Kind Of Sweet Peace, Some Kind Of Numbness, Absent-mindedness.

They Want Me To Give Another Concert But I Have No Desire To Do So. You Cannot Imagine What A Torture The Three Days Before A Public Appearance Are To Me.

I Really Don't Know Whether Any Place Contains More Pianists Than Paris, Or Whether You Can Find More Asses And Virtuosos Anywhere.