'Herr Pablo', I said to him, as he toyed with a slender little ebony-and-silver cane, 'you are a friend of Hermione, which is why I am interested in you. But I have to say that you don't exactly make it easy for me to hold a conversation with you. I have tried several times to talk about music with you because it wuold have interested me to hear your opinion, your judgment or whatever counter-arguments you may have, but you never deigned to reply to me, even in the slightest way.'
Lauguing at me heartily, he didn't fail to answer this time but calmly said: 'You see, in my opinion, talking about music is of no value. I never talk about music. I ask you, what should I have replied to your astute and accurate remarks? Everything you said was so right, you see. But listen, I'm a musician, not a scholar, and I don't believe that being right is of slightest value where music is concerned. With music, it's not a matter of being right, or of taste and education and all that.'
'Fair enough. But what is it matter of, then?'
'It's a matter of making music, Herr Haller, making music as well, as much and as intensively as possible! That's the point, Monsieur. I can have the complete works of Bach and Haydn in my head and be able to say extremely clever things about them, but that's of no use to anybody. However, when I pick up my horn and play a brisk shimmy, regardless of wheter it's a good or a bad dance tune, it's going to bring joy to people by putting a spring in their step and getting into their bloodstream. That's the only thing that matters. (...) That's the point of making music.'