People keep calling me the quiet one like I didn’t write enough music to haunt an entire apartment building. by Franz Schubert

To be fair, you also kept handing people songs like you were trying to win them over one lied at a time.

Thank you, Antonio. Finally, a man who understands that my issue is not length, it’s being forced to compete with thunder.

And yet somehow I’m still the one getting introduced as “the other guy.”

Both of you are unbearable, but Franz has a point: Ludwig, every piece you wrote enters the room like it owns the lease.

Quiet? You showed up in Vienna with enough drafts to start a weather system.

Better than handing them one heroic gesture and calling it a whole personality.