Claude Debussy often performed his own works, but he tended to get nervous, and he didn’t enjoy playing in public. And yet by all accounts Debussy was a wonderful pianist, especially noted for his remarkable “touch” at the keyboard.

What I somehow hear in Mozart, whether in his operas or his instrumental works, is a kind of fundamental optimism.

After Beethoven, all composers were seen and evaluated in Beethoven’s light, or rather in his enormous shadow.

In 1838, ten years after the death of Franz Schubert, Robert Schumann traveled to Vienna, and while he was there he paid a visit to the graves of Schubert and Beethoven. On a whim, Schumann decided to call on Schubert’s brother, Ferdinand, who was living in Vienna, and this turned out to be perhaps the most fortuitous social call in the history of music.

A scientist I know was talking about great works of literature the other day, and she said that what characterized them was the “density of brilliance.” What a wonderful phrase. And how perfect, too, for great works of music.

Claude Debussy was a great composer, but like many other famous composers, he was also a wonderful writer.