It's so relaxing to think that one can easily sing well enough, that one can delight ninety-nine hundredths of the audience without any real effort.

I could sing 'The Lost Chord' and move the whole Drill Hall at Brixton to tears.

But there might be one man there who knew, you or Hermann or some other, and at the end he would just shrug his shoulders ever so slightly, and I would wish I had never been born." She paused a moment.
"I'll not sing any more at all, ever," she said, "or I must sing to those who will take me seriously and judge me ruthlessly.

To sing just well enough to please isn't possible.

I'll do either you like." Mrs.Falbe strayed in at this moment with her finger in her book, but otherwise as purposeless as a wandering mist.
"I was afraid it might be going to get chilly," she remarked.