Civilization Is Paralysis.

A Critic In My House Sees Some Paintings. Greatly Perturbed, He Asks For My Drawings. My Drawings? Never! They Are My Letters, My Secrets.

Take Care Not To Step On The Foot Of A Learned Idiot. His Bite Is Incurable.

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

It Is Well For Young Men To Have A Model, But Let Them Draw The Curtain Over It While They Are Painting.

Nature Has Mysterious Infinities And Imaginative Power. It Is Always Varying The Productions It Offers To Us. The Artist Himself Is One Of Nature's Means.