One's destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.
Get away from the crowd when you can. Keep yourself to yourself, if only for a few hours daily.
Read over your compositions, and wherever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out.
Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb.
The scornful nostril and the high head gather not the odors that lie on the track of truth.
Better shun the bait, than struggle in the snare.
What makes the engine go? Desire, desire, desire.