Music is free and unlimited in its liberty of expression.

There are no perfect chords, dissonant chords or false chords.

All aggregations of notes are legitimate." That is called, and they believe it, the _development of taste_.
He whose taste is developed by this system is not like the man who by tasting a wine can tell you its age and its vineyard, but he is rather like the fellow who with perfect indifference gulps down good or bad wine, brandy or whiskey, and prefers that which burns his gullet the most.

The man who gets his work hung in the Salon is not the one who puts on his canvas delicate touches in harmonious tones, but he who juxtaposes vermillion and Veronese green.

The man with a "developed taste" is not the one who knows how to get new and unexpected results by passing from one key to another, as the great Richard did in _Die Meistersinger_, but rather the man who abandons all keys and piles up dissonances which he neither introduces nor concludes and who, as a result, grunts his way through music as a pig through a flower garden.
Possibly they may go farther still.