Perhaps the artist is nothing more than the personification of this universal maladjustment, this universal disequilibrium.

The Battle is endless...we who babble and froth at the mouth have been at it since eternity.

Whatever I do is done out of sheer joy; I drop my fruits like a ripe tree. What the general reader or the critic makes of them is not my concern.

The Happiest peoples, it is said, are those which have no history. Those who have a history, those who have made history seem only to have emphazied through th…

That play of black upon white, white upon black, has the intent and takes the form of creative art. It has in it a flow of the spirit and a harmony of music. E…

I seek a form that my style cannot discover, a bud of thought that wants to be a rose.

And we will be ready, at the end of every day will be ready, will not say no to anything, will try to stay awake while everyone is sleeping, will not sleep, wi…