"You consider yourselves artists? Blowers and fiddlers is what you are! I am an artist! I am Schubert, Franz Schubert, whom the whole world knows and talks about! Maker of great and beautiful things you can't possibly understand! . . . Cantatas and quartets, operas and symphonies! For I am not just a landler composer, as the idiotic newspapers say at the idiots repeat--I am Schubert! Franz Schubert! Don't you know it! When the word 'art' is used, it refers to me, not to you worms and insects who long for solos I will never write . . . Crawling, nibbling worms who should be squashed under my foot--the foot of a man reaching for the stars!
- Schubert, drunk, and possibly apocryphal. I choose to believe it true.