A great poet is the most precious jewel of a nation.

Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy. Music is the electrical soil in which the spirit lives, thinks and invents.

I wish you music to help with the burdens of life ,and to help you release your happiness to others.

Don't only practice your art, but force your way into its secrets; art deserves that, for it and knowledge can raise man to the Divine.

Life would be flat without music. It is the background to all I do. It speaks to the heart in its own special way like nothing else.

To play without passion is inexcusable!

What I have in my heart and soul - must find a way out. That's the reason for music.

Then let us all do what is right, strive with all our might toward the unattainable, develop as fully as we can the gifts God has given us, and never stop learning

An artist is someone who has learned to trust in himself.

Nothing is more intolerable than to have to admit to yourself your own errors.

Hide your secret even from the closest friend; learn to be silent.

A gun. I had been brought down by a gun. It was practically comical. Cheaters, I thought.

A life contemplating the blessings of Christ becomes a life acting the love of Christ.

Before I spoke with people, I did not think of all these things because there was no one to bother to think them for. Now things just come out of my mouth which are true.

I think part of picking where you live in New York is accepting who you are. Really looking at yourself and going, 'Yeah, I'm not cool enough for the West Village.'

People will ask, 'Are you famous?' And I always answer, 'My mother thinks so.'

I shan't get free of my emotion by copying the tree faithfully, or by drawing its leaves one by one in the common language, but only after identifying myself with it.

If I ever see more clearly at one time than at another, the medium through which I see is clearer.

The policies being promoted are insane... If you believe energy poverty is a good thing, you should support controls on carbon emissions. But most of the world disagrees with that.

So I sit there kicked my heels, thinking about New Orleans, and watching a morbid blue-bottle fly attempt to commit suicide by butting his head against the windowpane.

All men know the use of the useful, but nobody knows the use of the useless. Where can I find a man who has forgotten words so that I can have a word with him?