My compositions spring from my sorrows. Those that give the world the greatest delight were born of my deepest griefs.
No one understands another's grief, no one understands another's joy... My music is the product of my talent and my misery. And that which I have written in my greatest distress is what the world seems to like best.
Every night when I go to bed, I hope that I may never wake again, and every morning renews my grief.
No one feels another's grief, no one understands another's joy. People imagine they can reach one another. In reality they only pass each other by.
No one really understands the grief or joy of another. We always imagine that we are approaching some other, but our lines of travel are actually parallel.
No one really understands the grief or joy of another.
No one feels another's grief.