About Franz Schubert:
Franz Peter Schubert is ranked among the greatest composers of the late Classical era and early Romantic era and is one of the most frequently performed composers of the early nineteenth century.
One bites into the brass mouthpiece of his wooden cudgel, and the other blows his cheeks out on a French horn. Do you call that Art?
Every night when I go to bed, I hope that I may never wake again, and every morning renews my grief.
You believe happiness to be derived from the place in which once you have been happy, but in truth it is centered in ourselves.
I try to decorate my imagination as much as I can.
There are eight girls in the house in which I am living, and practically all of them are good looking. You can realize that I am kept busy.
I am composing like a god, as if it simply had to be done as it has been done.
Why does God endow us with compassion?
When I wished to sing of love, it turned to sorrow. And when I wished to sing of sorrow, it was transformed for me into love.
A man endures misfortune without complaint.
Above all things, I must not get angry. If I do get angry I knock all the teeth out of the mouth of the poor wretch who has angered me.
Approval or blame will follow in the world to come.
Easy mind, light heart. A mind that is too easy hides a heart that is too heavy.
I never force myself to be devout except when I feel so inspired, and never compose hymns of prayers unless I feel within me real and true devotion.
If only your pure and clean mind could touch me, dear Haydn, nobody has a greater reverence for you than I have.
Our castle is not imposing, but is well built, and surrounded by a very fine garden. I live in the bailiff's house.
The greatest misfortune of the wise man and the greatest unhappiness of the fool are based upon convention.
The manager is to be blamed who distributes parts to his players which they are unable to act.
The world resembles a stage on which every man is playing a part.
There are two contrary impulses which govern this man's brain-the one sane, and the other eccentric. They alternate at regular intervals.
Why should the composer be more guilty than the poet who warms to fantasy by a strange flame, making an idea that inspires him the subject of his own very different treatment?