When We Grow Old, There Can Only

I Use Everything That I Pick Up In My Memory, And Everything That Vibrates In My Soul.

We Should Return To The Greeks, Play In The Open Air: The Drama Dies Of Stalls And Boxes And Evening Dress, And People Who Come To Digest Their Dinner.

The One Happiness Is To Shut One's Door Upon A Little Room, With A Table Before One, And To Create; To Create Life In That Isolation From Life.

... Does It Seem To You That It Is Possible To Speak Of Art? It Would Be The Same As Explaining Love!

If I Had My Will, I Would Live In A Ship On The Sea And Never Come Nearer To Humanity Than That!