When I see someone anxious, I ask: What does this person want? If they didn't want something outside their control, how could they be anxious? Think about a musician playing alone — no anxiety. But put him on stage in front of a crowd, and suddenly he's nervous. Even if he has a great voice and plays well. Why? Because now he wants more than just to play well. He wants applause. But applause isn't up to him. Where he has skill, he feels confident. Bring him someone who knows nothing about music, and the musician doesn't worry about impressing them. But when it comes to things he doesn't understand — things he hasn't practiced — that's where anxiety kicks in. What doesn't he understand? He doesn't know what a crowd really is. He doesn't know what their praise actually means. He's learned to hit every note perfectly. But what praise from strangers is worth, and what power it really has in life — he's never figured that out. So of course he has to shake and go pale.
When I see a man anxious, I say, What does this man want? If he did not want something which is not in his power, how could he be anxious? For this reason a lute player when he is singing by himself has no anxiety, but when he enters the theatre, he is anxious, even if he has a good voice and plays well on the lute; for he not only wishes to sing well, but also to obtain applause: but this is not in his power. Accordingly, where he has skill, there he has confidence. Bring any single person who knows nothing of music, and the musician does not care for him. But in the matter where a man knows nothing and has not been practised, there he is anxious. What matter is this? He knows not what a crowd is or what the praise of a crowd is. However, he has learned to strike the lowest chord and the highest; but what the praise of the many is, and what power it has in life, he neither knows nor has he thought about it. Hence he must of necessity tremble and grow pale.