The Women Rest Their Tired Half-healed Hearts;

O God, In The Dream The Terrible Horse Began To Paw At The Air, And Make For Me With His Blows.

What We Suffer, What We Endure, What We Muff, What We Kill, What We Miss, What We Are Guilty Of, Is Done By Us, As Individuals, In Private.

The Art Of One Period Cannot Be Approached Through The Attitudes (emotional Or Intellectual) Of Another.

Stupidity Always Accompanies Evil. Or Evil, Stupidity.

True Revolutions In Art Restore More Than They Destroy.