To Judge A Composer's Work, One Must

Discipline, Work. Work, Discipline.

Behind Me The Branches Of A Wasted And Sterile Existence Are Cracking.

Spring Won't Let Me Stay In This House Any Longer! I Must Get Out And Breathe The Air Deeply Again.

It Is Easier To Achieve A Desired Result In Short Pieces.

Both My Marriages Were Failures! Number One Departed, And Number Two Stayed