I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings.

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Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.

If I were obliged to marry all those with whom I have jested, I should have at least two hundred wives.

The shorter way to do many things is to only do one thing at a time.

My Constanze is the virtuous, honourable, discreet, and faithful darling of her honest and kindly-disposed Mozart.

An unmarried man, in my opinion, enjoys only half a life.

My father is maestro at the Metropolitan church, which gives me an opportunity to write for the church as much as I please.

Versification is, indeed, indispensable for music, but rhyme, solely for rhyming's sake, most pernicious.

The happy medium - truth in all things - is no longer either known or valued; to gain applause, one must write things so inane that they might be played on barrel-organs, or so unintelligible that no rational being can comprehend them, though on that very account, they are likely to please.

The music is not in the notes, but in the silence between.

When I am completely myself, entirely alone during the night when I cannot sleep, it is on such occasions that my ideas flow best and most abundantly.

I am one of those who will go on doing till all doings are at an end.

Melody is the essence of music. I compare a good melodist to a fine racer, and counterpointists to hack post-horses; therefore be advised, let well alone and remember the old Italian proverb: Chi sa più, meno sa – Who knows most, knows least.

Just as people behave to me, so do I behave to them. When I see that a person despises me and treats me with contempt, I can be as proud as any peacock.

It is a great consolation for me to remember that the Lord, to whom I had drawn near in humble and child-like faith, has suffered and died for me, and that He will look on me in love and compassion.