An opera begins long before the curtain goes up and ends long after it has come down. It starts in my imagination, it becomes my life, and it stays part of my life long after I've left the opera house.

When music fails to agree to the ear, to soothe the ear and the heart and the senses, then it had missed the point.

I would like to be Maria, but there is Las Callas who demands that I carry myself with her dignity.

I cannot switch my voice. My voice is not like an elevator going up and down.

When my enemies stop hissing, I shall know I'm slipping.