Ludwig van Beethoven

Music is the one incorporeal entrance into the higher world of knowledge which comprehends mankind but which mankind cannot comprehend.

The world is a king, and like a king, desires flattery in return for favor; but true art is selfish and perverse — it will not submit to the mold of flattery.

Art! Who comprehends her? With whom can one consult concerning this great goddess?

Ich werde im Himmel hören! (I will hear in heaven!)

Plaudite, amici, comedia finita est. (Applaud, my friends, the comedy is over.)

There ought to be but one large art warehouse in the world, to which the artist could carry his art-works, and from which he could carry away whatever he needed. As it is, one must be half a tradesman.

You will hear nothing of me here ... Fidelio? They cannot give it, nor do they want to listen to it. The symphonies? They have no time for them. My concertos? Everyone grinds out only the stuff he himself has made. The solo pieces? They went out of fashion long ago, and here fashion is everything. At the most, Schuppanzigh occasionally digs up a quartet.

Music is indeed the mediator between the spiritual and sensual life.

Ach du erbärmlicher Schuft, was ich scheiße ist besser, als was du je gedacht.

Music is like a dream. One that I cannot hear.