Music is ... A higher revelation than all Wisdom & Philosophy
Beethoven can write music, thank God - but he can do nothing else on earth.
Don’t only practice your art, but force your way into its secrets, for it and knowledge can raise men to the divine.
I would rather write 10,000 notes than a single letter of the alphabet.
Only art and science can raise men to the level of gods.
I must confess that I lead a miserable life. For almost two years, I have ceased to attend any social functions, just because I find it impossible to say to people, 'I am deaf.' If I had any other profession, I might be able to cope with my infirmity; but in my profession, it is a terrible handicap.
What you are, you are by accident of birth; what I am, I am by myself. There are and will be a thousand princes; there is only one Beethoven.
Music from my fourth year began to be the first of my youthful occupations. Thus early acquainted with the gracious muse who tuned my soul to pure harmonies, I became fond of her, and, as it often seemed to me, she of me.
This is the mark of a really admirable man: steadfastness in the face of trouble.
The true artist is not proud: he unfortunately sees that art has no limits; he feels darkly how far he is from the goal, and though he may be admired by others, he is sad not to have reached that point to which his better genius only appears as a distant, guiding sun.
Nothing is more intolerable than to have to admit to yourself your own errors.
A true artist is expected to be all that is noble-minded, and this is not altogether a mistake; on the other hand, however, in what a mean way are critics allowed to pounce upon us.
Friends applaud, the comedy is over.
There ought to be an artistic depot where the artist need only hand in his artwork in order to receive what he asks for. As things are, one must be half a business man, and how can one understand - good heavens! - that's what I really call troublesome.
I joyfully hasten to meet death. If it come before I have had opportunity to develop all my artistic faculties, it will come, my hard fate notwithstanding, too soon, and I should probably wish it later - yet even then I shall be happy, for will it not deliver me from a state of endless suffering?
The barriers are not erected which can say to aspiring talents and industry, 'Thus far and no farther.'
Beethoven can write music, thank God, but he can do nothing else on earth.
I only live in my music, and I have scarcely begun one thing when I start on another. As I am now working, I am often engaged on three or four things at the same time.
Music is the one incorporeal entrance into the higher world of knowledge which comprehends mankind but which mankind cannot comprehend.
Art! Who comprehends her? With whom can one consult concerning this great goddess?
