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My mother was a trained nurse, and she'd tell me that patients would fight as they were administered anaesthetic, grappling to get the gas mask off their face.

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Hector Berlioz

Time, time - that is our greatest master! Alas, like Ugolino, time devours its own children.

Children, Greatest, Master, Masters, Time
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In my opinion, the trombone is the true head of the family of wind instruments, which I have named the 'epic' one. It possesses nobility and grandeur to the highest degree; it has all the serious and powerful tones of sublime musical poetry, from religious, calm and imposing accents to savage, orgiastic outburst. Directed by the will of the master, the trombones can chant like a choir of priests, threaten, utter gloomy sighs, a mournful lament, or a bright hymn of glory; they can break forth into awe-inspiring cries and awaken the dead or doom the living with their fearful voices.

Music, Religious, Powerful, Dead, Hymn, Utter

Which of the two powers, Love or Music, can elevate man to the sublimest heights?. . . It is a problem, and yet it seems to me that this is the answer: 'Love can give no idea of music; music can give an idea of love. '. . . Why separate them? They are two wings of the soul.

Music, Men, Wings, Sublimest, Problem

Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its pupils. (Le temps est un grand maître, dit-on; le malheur est qu'il soit un maître inhumain qui tue ses élèves. )

Great Teacher, Pupils, Soit, Teacher, Temps

It is difficult to put into words what I suffered-the longing that seemed to be tearing my heart out by the roots, the dreadful sense of being alone in an empty universe, the agonies that thrilled through me as if the blood were running ice-cold through my veins, the disgust with living, the impossibility of dying. Shakespeare himself never described this torture; but he counts it, in Hamlet, among the terrible of all the evils of existence. I had stopped composing; my mind seemed to become feebler as my feelings grew more intense. I did nothing. One power was left to me-to suffer.

Depression, Running, Heart, Described, Agonies, Torture

It is so rare. . . to find a complete person, with a soul, a heart and an imagination; so rare for characters as ardent and restless as ours to meet and to be matched together, that I hardly know how to tell you what happiness it gives me to know you.

Character, Friendship, Gives, Heart, Imagination, Rare
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