You will ask me where I get my ideas, that I cannot tell you with certainty.

They come unsummoned, directly, indirectly -I could seize them with my hands- out in the open air, in the woods while walking.. In the silence of the nights, early in the morning.

Incited by moods, which are translated by the poet into words, by me into tones that sound... and roar and storm about until I have set them down in notes.

Do not only practice art, but get at the very heart of it, this it deserves.

For only art and science raise men to the level of the gods.

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, gliding sun. 

-Ludwig Van Beethoven-