The artist, like the God of creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

“What scholars came, what did they find! Like candles they shed light on the world. Which one broke through this darkness? They told a tale and fell asleep.” Samarkand

In the course of my life I have often had intimations in dreams "that I should make music." The same dream came to me sometimes in one form, and sometimes in another, but always saying the same or nearly the same words: Make and cultivate music, said the dream. And hitherto I imagined that this was only intended to exhort and encourage me in the study of philosophy, which has always been the pursuit of my life, and is the noblest and best of music. The Trials Of Socrates

It is a mistake to look too far ahead. Only one link in the chain of destiny can be handled at a time. Never Give In!