I am hitting my head against the walls, but the walls are giving way.

If I weren't the way I am, I shouldn't write my symphonies.

With the coming of spring, I am calm again.

I am thrice homeless, as a native of Bohemia in Austria, as an Austrian among Germans, and as a Jew throughout the world. Everywhere an intruder, never welcomed.

I am not against Israel, I am against Zionists.

I am the head of the Socialists, but the party is not my property.