The music is the shining path over which the poet travels to bring his song to the world.
[To the audience at her farewell concert:] You have always given me more than I gave to you ... You were the wings on which I soared.
For what mission can be greater than that of giving to the world hours of exaltation in which it may forget the misery of the present, the cares of everyday life and lose itself in the eternally pure world of harmony. . .
Do not become paralyzed and enchained by the set patterns which have been woven of old. No, build from your own youthful feeling, your own groping thought and your own flowering perception.
But to me the actual sound of the words is all important; I feel always that the words complete the music and must never be swallowed up in it.
I had hoped you would protest, but please don't argue.
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