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.

I am in the world only for the purpose of composing.

There is no such thing as happy music.

Nobody understands another's sorrow, and nobody another's joy.

I try to decorate my imagination as much as I can.

Happy is the man who finds a true friend, and far happier is he who finds that true friend in his wife.

You believe happiness to be derived from the place in which once you have been happy, but in truth it is centered in ourselves.

Every night when I go to bed, I hope that I may never wake again, and every morning renews my grief.

No one really understands the grief or joy of another.