Art Cannot Be Modern. Art Is Primordially

I Don't Know Whether There Is Anyone Else At All Who Remembers My Noble Father With Such Sadness

At Present, I Am Mainly Observing The Physical Motion Of Mountains, Water, Trees And Flowers. One Is Everywhere Reminded Of Similar Movements In The Human Body, Of Similar Impulses Of Joy And Suffering In Plants.

Bodies Have Their Own Light Which They Consume To Live: They Burn, They Are Not Lit From The Outside.

I Was In Love With Everything- I Wanted To Look With Love At The Angry People So That Their Eyes Would Be Forced To Respond; And I Wanted To Bring Gifts To The Envious And Tell Them That I Am Worthless.

Everything Is Dead While It Lives.