You may depend upon it that he is a good man whose intimate friends are all good, and whose enemies are decidedly bad.
The century of aeroplanes deserves its own music. As there are no precedents, I must create anew.
the colour of my soul is iron-grey and sad bats wheel about the steeple of my dreams.
Art is the most beautiful deception of all. And although people try to incorporate the everyday events of life in it, we must hope that it will remain a deception lest it become a utilitarian thing, sad as a factory.
People don't very much like things that are beautiful. . they are so far from their nasty little minds.
Composers aren't daring enough. They're afraid of that sacred idol called 'common sense', which is the most dreadful thing I know - after all, it's no more than a religion founded to excuse the ubiquity of imbeciles!
I wish to sing of my interior visions with the naive candour of a child.
Of science and logic he chatters, As fine and as fast as he can; Though I am no judge of such matters, I'm sure he's a talented man.
Disgust relies on moral obtuseness. It is possible to view another human being as a slimy slug or a piece of revolting trash only if one has never made a serious good-faith attempt to see the world through that person’s eyes or to experience that person’s feelings. Disgust imputes to the other a subhuman nature. How, by contrast, do we ever become able to see one another as human? Only through the exercise of imagination.
In the face of such overwhelming statistical possibilities hypochondria has always seems to me to be the only rational position to take on life.
I write songs about fat girls and about men who run off to Mexico.