Art Is Not About Itself But The

In My Day Artists Wanted To Be Outcasts, Pariahs. Now They Are All Integrated Into Society

I'm Not At All Sure That The Concept Of The Readymade Isn't The Most Important Single Idea To Come Out Of My Work.

In New York In 1915 I Bought At A Hardware Store A Snow Shovel On Which I Wrote In Advance Of The Broken Arm .

I Thought To Discourage Aesthetics... I Threw The Bottlerack And The Urinal In Their Faces And Now They Admire Them For Their Aesthetic Beauty.

My Art Would Be That Of Living: Each Moment, Each Breath Is A Work Inscribed Nowhere.