You Cannot Imagine How It Spoils One

In Hungary All Native Music, In Its Origin, Is Divided Naturally Into Melody Destined For Song Or Melody For The Dance.

Companions, In Misery And Worse, That Is What We All Are, And To Try To Change This Substantially Avails Us Nothing.

I Foster A Sorrowful Conception Of Affection. Make No Sacrifices.

For The Virtuoso, Musical Works Are In Fact Nothing But Tragic And Moving Materializations Of His Emotions; He Is Called Upon To Make Them Speak, Weep, Sing And Sigh, To Recreate Them In Accordance With His Own Consciousness. In This Way He, Like The Composer, Is A Creator, For He Must Have Within Himself Those Passions That He Wishes To Bring So Intensely To Life.

It Is My Fervent Wish And My Greatest Ambition To Leave A Work With A Few Useful Instructions For The Pianists After Me.