“What about us? Can i see you again? You can say no. You'd crush all my hopes and dreams, but it's an option.”

“It's strange. Hearing you say my name.""I can say it again if you'd like.""No, I'll remember just fine.”

“You are my love of loves, my dream of dreams, my hope of hopes, and I would take the journey all over again because it led me to you, because it’s our story – the story of us.”

“You are my love of loves, my dream of dreams, my hope of hopes...and I would take the journey all over again because it led me to you, because it’s our story–the story of us.”

“You wouldn't understand my works. You wouldn't have the faintest idea of what they were about. You wouldn't appreciate the points of reference. You're way behind. All of you. There's no point in sending you my works. You'd be lost. It's nothing to do with a question of intelligence. It's a way of being able to look at the world. It's a question of how far you can operate on things and not in things. I mean it's a question of your capacity to ally the two, to relate the two, to balance the two. To see, to be able to see! I'm the one who can see. That's why I can write my critical works. Might do you good...have a look at them...see how certain people can view...things...how certain people can maintain...intellectual equilibrium. Intellectual equilibrium. You're just objects. You just...move about. I can observe it. I can see what you do. It's the same as I do. But you're lost in it. You won't get me being...I won't be lost in it.”

“It's impossible for me to say one word about all that music has meant to me in my life. How, then, can I hope to be understood?”