Vienna Is A Handsome, Lively City, 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.

It's A Huge Carthusian Monastery, Stuck Down Between Rocks And Sea, Where You May Imagine Me, Without White Gloves Or Hair Curling, As Pale As Ever, In A Cell With Such Doors As Paris Never Had For Gates. The Cell Is The Shape Of A Tall Coffin, With An Enormous Dusty Vaulting, A Small Window... Bach, My Scrawls And Waste Paper - Silence - You Could Scream - There Would Still Be Silence. Indeed, I Write To You From A Strange Place.

My Manuscripts Sleep, While I Cannot, For I Am Covered With Poultices.

As Something Has Involuntarily Crept Into My Head Through My Eyes,i Love To Indulge It, Even Though It May Be All Wrong.

I Don't Know Where There Can Be So Many Pianists As In Paris, So Many Asses And So Many Virtuosi.