Something marvelous has happened to me. I was transported to the seventh heaven. There sat all the gods assembled. As a special dispensation, I was granted the favor of making a wish. „What do you want,” asked Mercury. „Do you want youth, or beauty, or power, or a long life, or the most beautiful girl, or anyone of the other glorious things we have in the treasure chest? Choose-but only one thing.” For a moment I was bewildered; then I addressed the gods, saying: My esteemed contemporaries, I choose one thing-that I may always have the laughter on my side. Not one of the gods said a word; instead, all of them began to laugh. From that I concluded that my wish was granted and decided that the gods knew how to express themselves with good taste, for it would indeeq have been inappropriate to reply solemnly: It is granted to yoU.
Life for me has become a bitter drink, and yet it must be taken in drops, slowly, counting.
No one comes back from the dead; no one has come into the world without weeping. No one asks when one wants to come in; no one asks when one wants to go out.
Now, if! were to venture an attempt at characterizing Mozart’s music with a single predicate pertaining to the Page in Figaro, I would say: It is intoxicated with erotic love; but, like all intoxication, an intoxication with erotic love can also have two effects, either a heightened transparent joy oflife or a concentrated obscure depression.