She can sing, she will sing! We will venture it, if you, I, all of us die for it! "Herse, Orpheus, what have we to lose?
Our gods, too, shall have their martyrs.

It is a poor life that has no excitement.

Our art--why, all I have ever had has been devoted to it.

I make no boast of having sacrificed everything, and if gold and lands were again to be mine I would become a beggar once more for the sake of art: We have always held the divine Muse sacred, but who can keep up a brave heart when he sees her persecuted! She may only be worshipped in darkness in these days, and the Queen of Gods and men shuns the light like a moth, a bat, an owl.

If we must die let it be with and for Her! Once more let pure and perfect song rejoice this old heart, and if afterwards...