The hotel wasn't that empty, however. Soon an old man walked unsteadily out of the nearby lounge and plopped himself into a big easy chair beside the piano. There, he slowly sipped his wine and watched me play. I felt distracted and uneasy, trapped on the bench where at any moment he might request one of his favourite tunes, one I most likely did not know how to play. [...] He said me: Who will play your music if you don't do it yourself?

Michael Jones (1995) Creating an Imaginative Life. Excerpts at pianoscapes.com