And This Is The Final Meaning Of

Build Then The Ship Of Death, For You Must Take The Longest Journey, To Oblivion.

To Every Man Who Struggles With His Own Soul In Mystery, A Book That Is A Book Flowers Once, And Seeds, And Is Gone.

When I Went To The Scientific Doctor I Realised What A Lust There Was In Him To Wreak His So-called Science On Me And Reduce Me To The Level Of A Thing. So I Said: Good-morning! And Left Him.

When Passion Is Dead, Or Absent, Then The Magnificent Throb Of Beauty Is Incomprehensible And Even A Little Despicable.

The Picture Must All Come Out Of The Artist's Inside, Awareness Of Forms And Figures... It Is More Than Memory. It Is The Image As It Lives In The Consciousness, Alive Like A Vision, But Unknown.