I remember, I remember, / The house where I was born, / The little window where the sun / Came peeping in at morn.

She stood breast-high amid the corn, Clasp'd by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.

Father of rosy day, No more thy clouds of incense rise; But waking flow'rs, At morning hours, Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.

I was born into a world where a lot of people who came to the house were performers.

My 10th Sonata is a sonata of insects. Insects are born from the sun... they are the sun's kisses.

As I was born to be unfortunate, my sun soon clouded.