Are You Really Sure That A Floor

I Don't Use Drugs, My Dreams Are Frightening Enough.

It Has Always Irked Me As Improper That There Are Still So Many People For Whom The Sky Is No More Than A Mass Of Random Points Of Light. I Do Not See Why We Should Recognize A House, A Tree, Or A Flower Here Below And Not, For Example, The Red Arcturus Up There In The Heavens As It Hangs From Its Constellation Bootes, Like A Basket Hanging From A Balloon.

I Am Always Wandering Around In Enigmas. There Are Young People Who Constantly Come To Tell Me: You, Too, Are Making Op Art. I Haven't The Slightest Idea What That Is, Op Art. I've Been Doing This Work For Thirty Years Now.

As Far As I Know, There Is No Proof Whatever Of The Existence Of An Objective Reality Apart From Our Senses, And I Do Not See Why We Should Accept The Outside World As Such Solely By Virtue Of Our Senses.

A Woman Once Rang Me Up And Said, 'mr. Escher, I Am Absolutely Crazy About Your Work. In Your Print -reptiles- You Have Given Such A Striking Illustration Of Reincarnation.' I Replied, 'madam, If That's The Way You See It, So Be It.'