“ I try to decorate my imagination as much as I can. ”
I am in the world only for the purpose of composing.
~ Franz Schubert
With a heart filled with endless love for those who scorned me, I wandered far away. For many and many a year I sang songs. Whenever I tried to sing of love, it turned to pain. And again, when I tried to sing of pain, it turned to love.
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.
