“The principle of the endless melody is the perpetual becoming of a music that never had any reason for starting, any more than it has any reason for ending.”

Look for the music on all things, and life will be a symphony of joy. My music is best understood by children and animals.

My music is best understood by children and animals.

Why is it that whenever I hear a piece of music I don’t like, it’s always by Villa Lobos?

A cultural snob is someone who claims to be familiar with the incomprehensible.

Doomed to total failure in a deaf world of ignorance and indifference, he inexorably kept on cutting out his diamonds, his dazzling diamonds, of whose mines he had a perfect knowledge.

Composition is frozen improvisation.

I never am sea sick, never. I am sea drunk!

To continue in one path is to go backward.

Money may kindle, but it cannot by itself, and for very long, burn.

Hurry? I have no time to hurry.

Is it not by love alone that we succeed in penetrating to the very essence of being?

One has a nose. The nose scents and it chooses. An artist is simply a kind of pig snouting truffles.

All music is nothing more than a succession of impulses that converge towards a definite point of repose.

An artist is like a pig snouting truffles.

Music must be listened to; it is not enough to hear it. A duck hears also.

I wonder if memory is true, and I know that it cannot be, but that one lives by memory nevertheless and not by truth.

I have a big-picture outlook, I am willing to fall, and I understand it’s ok to fall, but I am going to get back up, I may take a step back, but in the end, I am going to take a giant leap forward.

As a camel kneels before his master to have him remove his burden at the end of the day, so kneel each night and let the Master take your burden.

The picture’s over. Now I have to go and put it on film.

When people come up and give me a compliment. I take each remark as if it were a flower. At the end of the day I lift up the bouquet of flowers I have gathered throughout the day and say, ‘Here you are, Lord, it is all Yours.’

There are two critical points in every aerial flight-its beginning and its end.

Some of these kids are spending more time with the coaches than they are with their parents. The coach is supposed to be raising these kids, not belittling them and talking to them like the world is coming to an end.

Mallarme said that everything in the world exists in order to end in a book. Today everything exists to end in a photograph.

Take me down to the river bend, take me down to the fighting end. Wash the poison from off my skin, and show me how to be whole again.