A Meter Of Green Is Greener Than

Art Is Either Revolution Or Plagiarism

Literary Poetry In A Painter Is Something Special, And Is Neither Illustration Nor The Translation Of Writing By Form.

Without Delay I Began Work, Without Hesitation And All Of A Fever.

Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going?

The Cyclone Ends. The Sun Returns; The Lofty Coconut Trees Lift Up Their Plumes Again; Man Does Likewise. The Great Anguish Is Over; Joy Has Returned; The Sea Smiles Like A Child.