Ludwig van Beethoven

I cannot hear them, but I know they are making a hash of it. What do you think? Music is... a dreadful thing. What is it? I don't understand it. What does it mean?

Utter nonsense. If you hear a marching band, is your soul exalted? No, you march. If you hear a waltz, you dance. If you hear a mass, you take communion. It is the power of music to carry one directly into the mental state of the composer. The listener has no choice. It is like hypnotism. So, now… What was in my mind when I wrote this? Hmm? A man is trying to reach his lover. His carriage has broken down in the rain. The wheels stuck in the mud. She will only wait so long. This… is the sound of his agitation. "This is how it is… ," the music is saying. "Not how you are used to being. Not how you are used to thinking. But like this."

It is the power of music to carry one directly into the mental state of the composer.

It is terrible, terrible for you to rob me in this way of my most treasured feelings!

You think that because I do not stop you, that I am not listening.

The manner in which you thump out the notes without the slightest thought as to their meaning is unforgivable. And your lack of passion is unforgivable. I shall have to beat you.

I can't hear them, but I know that they are making a hash of it.

You know why wigs went out of fashion? Because too many ended up in the bottom of baskets.