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I Too Had To Work Hard, So As Not To Have To Work Hard Any Longer.

-Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

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I Too Had To

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

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I Too Had To Work Hard, So As Not To Have To Work Hard Any Longer.

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An Astonishing Number Of Kisses Are Flying About! I See A Whole Crowd Of Them. Ha! Ha! I Have Just Caught Three - They Are Delicious... I Kiss You Millions Of Times.

Now There Is Music From Which A Man Can Learn Something.

Nor Do I Hear In My Imagination The Parts Successively, But I Hear Them, As It Were, All At Once (gleich Dies Zusammen). What A Delight This Is I Cannot Tell ! All This Inventing, This Producing, Takes Place In A Pleasing Lively Dream.

I Should Like To Know For What Reason Idleness Is So Popular With Many Young People That It Is Impossible To Dissuade Them From It Either By Words Or By Chastisements.

Nevertheless The Passions, Whether Violent Or Not, Should Never Be So Expressed As To Reach The Point Of Causing Disgust; And Music, Even In Situations Of The Greatest Horror, Should Never Be Painful To The Ear But Should Flatter And Charm It, And Thereby Always Remain Music.

True Perfection In All Things Is No Longer Known Or Prized - You Must Write Music That Is Either So Simple A Coachman Could Sing It, Or So Unintelligble That Audiences Like It Simply Because No Sane Person Could Understand It.

If Only The Whole World Could Feel The Power Of Harmony.

What's Even Worse Than A Flute? - Two Flutes!

She's Only Pretty In That She Has Two Small Black Eyes And A Good Figure.

I Have Never Written The Music That Was In My Heart To Write; Perhaps I Never Shall With This Brain And These Fingers, But I Know That Hereafter It Will Be Written; When Instead Of These Few Inlets Of The Senses Through Which We Now Secure Impressions From Without, There Shall Be A Flood Of Impressions From All Sides; And Instead Of These Few Tones Of Our Little Octave, There Shall Be An Infinite Scale Of Harmonies - For I Feel It - I Am Sure Of It. This World Of Music, Whose Borders Even Now I Have Scarcely Entered, Is A Reality, Is Immortal.

Writing Music Is My One And Only Passion And Joy.

Nevertheless The Passions, Whether Violent Or Not, Should Never Be So Expressed As To Reach The Point Of Disgust.

I Thank My God For Graciously Granting Me The Opportunity Of Learning That Death Is The Key Which Unlocks The Door To Our True Happiness.

I Never Lie Down At Night Without Reflecting That, Young As I Am, I May Not Live To See Another Day.

My Great Grandfather Used To Say To His Wife, My Great-grandmother, Who In Turn Told Her Daughter, My Grandmother, Who Repeated It To Her Daughter, My Mother, Who Used To Remind Her Daughter, My Own Sister, That To Talk Well And Eloquently Was A Very Great Art, But That An Equally Great One Was To Know The Right Moment To Stop.

Love Guards The Heart From The Abyss.

One Must Not Make Oneself Cheap Here - That Is A Cardinal Point - Or Else One Is Done. Whoever Is Most Impertinent Has The Best Chance.

I Am Never Happier Than When I Have Something To Compose, For That, After All, Is My Sole Delight And Passion

The Best Way To Learn Is Through The Powerful Force Of Rhythm.

Write To Me And Don't Be So Lazy. Otherwise I Shall Have To Give You A Thrashing. What Fun! I'll Break Your Head.

If People Could See Into My Heart, I Should Almost Feel Ashamed - All There Is Cold, Cold As Ice.

Neither A Lofty Degree Of Intelligence Nor Imagination Nor Both Together Go To The Making Of Genius. Love, Love, Love, That Is The Soul Of Genius.

When I Feel Well And In A Good Humour, Or When I Am Taking A Drive Or Walking After A Good Meal, Or In The Night When I Cannot Sleep, Thoughts Crowd Into My Mind As Easily As My Mind Might Wish.

My Dear Sister! I’m Amazed To Discover That You Can Compose So Delightfully. In A Word, Your Lied Is Beautiful. You Must Compose More Often.

I Pay No Attention Whatever To Anybody's Praise Or Blame. I Simply Follow My Own Feelings.

Patience And Tranquility Of Mind Contribute More To Cure Our Distempers As The Whole Art Of Medicine

Creativity Is The Firing Of My Soul.

Directly After God In Heaven Comes A Papa.

Now Let The Matter Rest As It Is, Or As It May Be, What Avail Useless Speculations? What Is To Occur We Do Not Know; Still In So Far We Do! What God Wills!

As Death, When We Come To Consider It Closely, Is The True Goal Of Our Existence . . .

Death And Dying

When I Am Traveling In A Carriage, Or Walking After A Good Meal, Or During The Night When I Cannot Sleep; It Is On Such Occasions That Ideas Flow Best And Most Abundantly.

Music Is My Life And My Life Is Music.

Music Is My Life

Neither Rejoice Nor Lament Prematurely; For Whatever May Happen, All Will Be Well If We Only Have Health; For Happiness Exists--merely In The Imagination.

Even When I Can Play Europe's Most Precious Keyboard, To Have To Listen To People Who Don't Understand, Or Do Not Want To Understand, And Who Are Incapable Of Grasping My Intent, Whatever I Play, Does Surely Forfeit My Lust For Playing At All.

I Write [music] As A Sow Piddles.

I Cannot Write In Verse, For I Am No Poet. I Cannot Arrange The Parts Of Speech With Such Art As To Produce Effects Of Light And Shade, For I Am No Painter. Even By Signs And Gestures I Cannot Express My Thoughts And Feelings, For I Am No Dancer. But I Can Do So By Means Of Sounds, For I Am A Musician.

God Is Ever Before My Eyes. I Realize His Omnipotence And I Fear His Anger; But I Also Recognize His Compassion, And His Tenderness Towards His Creatures.

When I Am At Peace With Myself . . . Then Thoughts Flow Into Me Most Easily And At Their Best. Where They Come From And How - That I Cannot Say . . . I'd Be Willing To Work Forever And Forever If I Were Permitted To Write Only Such Music As I Want To Write And Can Write - Which I Myself Think Good.

You Know That I Immerse Myself In Music, So To Speak- That I Think About It All Day Long- That I Like Experimenting- Studying- Reflecting.

God First, Then Papa.

Love, Love, Love, That Is The Soul Of Genius.

Doing What You Love

For I Assure You, Without Travel, At Least For People From The Arts And Sciences, One Is A Miserable Creature!... A Man Of Mediocre Talents Always Remains Mediocre, May He Travel Or Not - But A Man Of Superior Talents, Which I Cannot Deny Myself To Have Without Being Blasphemous, Becomes - Bad, If He Always Stays In The Same Place.

If Germany, My Beloved Fatherland, Of Whom You Know I Am Proud, Will Not Accept Me, Then Must I, In The Name Of God, Again Make France Or England Richer By One Capable German - And To The Shame Of The German Nation.

The Wonders Of The Music Of The Future Will Be Of A Higher & Wider Scale And Will Introduce Many Sounds That The Human Ear Is Now Incapable Of Hearing. Among These New Sounds Will Be The Glorious Music Of Angelic Chorales. As Men Hear These They Will Cease To Consider Angels As Figments Of Their Imagination.

It Is A Great Consolation For Me To Remember That The Lord, To Whom I Had Drawn Near In Humble And Child-like Faith, Has Suffered And Died For Me, And That He Will Look On Me In Love And Compassion.

It Is When I Am, As It Were, Completely Myself, Entirely Alone, And Of Good Cheer.....that Ideas Flow Best And Most Abundantly. Whence And How They Come, I Know Not, Nor Can I Force Them.

I Too Had To Work Hard, So As Not To Have To Work Hard Any Longer.

Our Riches, Being In Our Brains, Die With Us... Unless Of Course Someone Chops Off Our Head, In Which Case, We Won't Need Them Anyway.

The Most Necessary, Most Difficult And Principal Thing In Music, That Is Time.

Handel Understands Effect Better Than Any Of Us -- When He Chooses, He Strikes Like A Thunderbolt.

The Music Is Not In The Notes, But In The Silence Between.

People Err Who Think My Art Comes Easily To Me. I Assure You, Dear Friend, Nobody Has Devoted So Much Time And Thought To Compositions As I. There Is Not A Famous Master Whose Music I Have Not Industriously Studied Through Many Times.

To My Eyes And Ears The Organ Will Ever Be The King Of Instruments.

As Death, When We Come To Consider It Closely, Is The True Goal Of Our Existence, I Have Formed During The Last Few Years Such Close Relationships With This Best And Truest Friend Of Mankind That Death's Image Is Not Only No Longer Terrifying To Me, But Is Indeed Very Soothing And Consoling, And I Thank My God For Graciously Granting Me The Opportunity...of Learning That Death Is The Key Which Unlocks The Door To Our True Happiness.

I Really Do Not Aim At Any Originality.

The Whole, Though It Be Long, Stands Almost Complete And Finished In My Mind So That I Can Survey It At A Glance. Nor Do I Hear In My Imagination The Parts Successively, But I Hear Them, As It Were, All At Once. What Delight This Is I Cannot Tell!

The Taste Of Death Is Upon My Lips. I Feel Something That Is Not Of This Earth.

All I Insist On, And Nothing Else, Is That You Should Show The Whole World That You Are Not Afraid. Be Silent, If You Choose; But When It Is Necessary, Speak—and Speak In Such A Way That People Will Remember It.

My Fatherland Has Always The First Claim On Me.

To Every Good Friend I Send My Greet Feet; Addio Nitwit. Love True True True Until The Grave, If I Live That Long And Do Behave.

Music, In Even The Most Terrible Situations, Must Never Offend The Ear But Always Remain A Source Of Pleasure.

To Talk Well And Eloquently Is A Very Great Art, But That An Equally Great One Is To Know The Right Moment To Stop.

Melody Is The Essence Of Music.

Believe Me, My Sole Purpose Is To Make As Much Money As Possible; For After Good Health It Is The Best Thing To Have.

You Know That I Become Quite Powerless Whenever I Am Obliged To Write For An Instrument Which I Cannot Bear.

Silence Is Very Important. The Silence Between The Notes Are As Important As The Notes Themselves.

I Must Give You A Piece Of Intelligence That You Perhaps Already Know, Namely That The Ungodly Arch-villain Voltaire Has Died Miserably Like A Dog, Just Like A Brute. That Is His Reward!

As I Love Mannheim, Mannheim Loves Me.

I Choose Such Notes That Love One Another.

Love One Another

Music Must Never Offend The Ear, But Must Please The Listener, Or, In Other Words, Must Never Cease To Be Music.

I Will Gladly Give Lessons As A Favor, Particularly When I See That My Student Has Talent, Inclination, And Anxiety To Learn; But To Be Obliged To Go To A House At A Certain Hour, Or To Have To Wait At Home For A Pupil, Is What I Cannot Do, No Matter How Much Money It May Bring Me In. . . I Am A Composer And Was Born To Be A Kapellmeister. I Neither Can Nor Ought To Bury The Talent For Composition With Which God In His Goodness Has So Richly Endowed Me. . .

I Am Not Thoughtless But Am Prepared For Anything And As A Result Can Wait Patiently For Whatever The Future Holds In Store, And I'll Be Able To Endure It.

Music Is My Life And My Life Is Music. Anyone Who Does Not Understand This Is Not Worthy Of God.

Music Is My Life

I Do Not Hear In My Imagination The Parts Successively, But I Hear Them Gleich Alles Zusammen - At The Same Time All Together.

Let Us Put Our Trust In God And Console Ourselves With The Thought That All Is Well, If It Is In Accordance With The Will Of The Almighty, As He Knows Best What Is Profitable And Beneficial To Our Temporal Happiness And Our Eternal Salvation.

Whoever Is Most Impertinent Has The Best Chance.

It Is A Mistake To Think That The Price Of My Art Has Become Easy To Me.

A Bachelor, In My Opinion, Is Only Half Alive.

To Win Applause One Must Write Stuff So Simple That A Coachman Might Sing It.

I Love It When An Aria Fits A Singer As Perfectly As A Suit Of Well-tailored Clothes.

Melody Is The Essence Of Music. I Compare A Good Melodist To A Fine Racer, And Counterpoints To Hack Post-horses.

I Am A Fool. That Is Well Known.

A Man Of Ordinary Talent Will Always Be Ordinary, Whether He Travels Or Not; But A Man Of Superior Talent (which I Cannot Deny Myself To Be Without Being Impious) Will Go To Pieces If He Remains Forever In The Same Place.

Forgive Me, Majesty. I Am A Vulgar Man! But I Assure You, My Music Is Not.

Melody Is The Essence Of Music. I Compare A Good Melodist To A Fine Racer, And Counterpointists To Hack Post-horses; Therefore Be Advised, Let Well Alone And Remember The Old Italian Proverb: Chi Sa Più, Meno Sa Who Knows Most, Knows Least.

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