Art Seems To Me To Be Above

If All Life Moves Inevitably Towards Its End, Then We Must, During Our Own, Colour It With Our Colours Of Love And Hope.

Art Is Foremost A State Of Mind, And Only Secondarily A Problem Of Form.

Time Is A River Without Banks.

Art Must Be An Expression Of Love Or It Is Nothing.

I Am Working In Paris . I Cannot For A Single Day Get The Thought Out Of My Head That There Probably Exists Something Essential, Some Immutable Reality, And Now That I Have Lost Everything Else (thank God, It Gets Lost All On Its Own) I Am Trying To Preserve This And, What Is More, Not To Be Content. In A Word: I Am Working.