Nature was my kindergarten.

Setting my mind on a musical instrument was like falling in love. All the world seemed bright and changed.

The blues - the sound of a sinner on revival day.

I knew the whistle of each of the river boats on the Tennessee.

The name of my ailment was longing, and it was not cured till I finally went to the department store and counted out the money in small coins before the dismayed clerk. When I came to the house, I held up the instrument before the eyes of the astonished household.

Whenever I heard the song of a bird and the answering call of its mate, I could visualize the notes in scale, all built up within my consciousness as a natural symphony.