Frederic Chopin
Frederic Chopin
Frédéric François Chopin, born Fryderyk Franciszek Chopin, was a Polish composer and virtuoso pianist of the Romantic era who wrote primarily for the solo piano. He gained and has maintained renown worldwide as a leading musician of his era, whose "poetic genius was based on a professional technique that was without equal in his generation." Chopin was born in what was then the Duchy of Warsaw and grew up in Warsaw, which in 1815 became part of Congress Poland. A...
NationalityPolish
ProfessionComposer
Date of Birth1 March 1810
CountryPoland
Concerts are never real music, you have to give up the idea of hearing in them all the most beautiful things of art.
The three most celebrated doctors on the island have been to see me. One sniffed at what I spat, the second tapped where I spat from, and the third sounded me and listened as I spat. The first said I was dead, the second that I was dying and the third that I'm going to die.
I haven't heard anything so great for a long time; Beethoven snaps his fingers at the whole world...
As long as I have health and strength, I will gladly work all my days.
England is so surrounded by the boredom of conventionalities, that it is all one to them whether music is good or bad, since they have to hear it from morning till night. For here they have flower-shows with music, dinners with music, sales with music...
If the newspapers cut me up so much that I shall not venture before the world again, I have resolved to become a house painter; that would be as easy as anything else, and I should, at any rate, still be an artist!
I wish I could throw off the thoughts which poison my happiness, but I take a kind of pleasure in indulging them.
The crowd intimidates me, its breath suffocates me. I feel paralyzed by its curious look, and the unknown faces make me dumb.
Mozart encompasses the entire domain of musical creation, but I've got only the keyboard in my poor head.
Nothing is more beautiful than the sound of the guitar.
Chopin has done for the piano what Schubert has done for the voice.
Oh, how hard it must be to die anywhere but in ones birthplace.
Man is never always happy, and very often only a brief period of happiness is granted him in this world; so why escape from this dream which cannot last long?
As something has involuntarily crept into my head through my eyes,I love to indulge it, even though it may be all wrong.