My veins are afire with music, Her eyes have kissed me, my body is turned to light; I shall dream to her secret heart tonight...

Weave, weave, weave, you streaks of rain! I am dissolved and woven again... Thousands of faces rise and vanish before me. Thousands of voices weave in the rain.

'I bound her to me in all soft ways, I bound her to me in a net of days, Yet now she has gone in silence and said no word. How can we face these dazzling thing…

'I am the one you saw to-day, who fell Senseless before you, hearing a certain bell: A bell that broke great memories in my brain.' 'I am the one who passed un…

I'm possessed by love--but isn't everybody? Most of my songs are love ballads and things to do with sadness and

Just as my fingers on these keys Make music, so the self-same sounds On my spirit make a music, too. Music is feeling, then, not sound; And thus it is that wha…

All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it.