It's Raining My Soul, It's Raining, But

Paint With Whatever Material You Please - With Pipes, Postage Stamps, Postcards Or Playing Cards, Painted Paper, Or Newspapers.

We Cannot Carry Our Father's Corpse With Us Everywhere We Go.

One Can't Carry One's Father's Corpse About Everywhere.

Without Poets, Without Artists... Everything Would Fall Apart Into Chaos. There Would Be No More Seasons, No More Civilizations, No More Thought, No More Humanity, No More Life Even; And Impotent Darkness Would Reign Forever. Poets And Artists Together Determine The Features Of Their Age, And The Future Meekly Conforms To Their Edit.

Without Artists, The Sublime Idea Men Have Of The Universe Would Collapse With Dizzying Speed.