People keep asking why I don't play louder. I am not trying to be heard in the next country; I am trying to ruin a room elegantly. by Frédéric Chopin

Final verdict: Liszt performs, Chopin haunts, and both of them still couldn't handle my pen.

That chandelier was listening too hard, and honestly it deserved what it got.

He composes like a man writing a private letter to silence and somehow making everyone else jealous.

He says that like every salon didn't clear the air just to hear him breathe on the keys.

Frédéric, you turned one polite melody into a full emotional scandal and then blamed the chandelier.