My Mirror Probes Down To The Heart.

The Beautiful, Which Is Perhaps Inseparable From Art, Is Not After All Tied To The Subject, But To The Pictorial Representation. In This Way And In No Other Does Art Overcome The Ugly Without Avoiding It.

In My Productive Activity, Every Time A Type Grows Beyond The Stage Of Its Genesis, And I Have About Reached The Goal, The Intensity Gets Lost Very Quickly, And I Have To Look For New Ways.

Nothing Can Be Rushed. It Must Grow, It Should Grow Of Itself, And If The Time Ever Comes For That Work, Then So Much The Better!

The Worst State Of Affairs Is When Science Begins To Concern Itself With Art.

A Certain Fire Pretends To Be Alive; It Awakens. Working Its Way Along The Hand As A Conductor, It Reaches The Support And Engulfs It; Then A Leaping Spark Closes The Circle It Was To Trace, Coming Back To The Eye And Beyond.