Art Is A Marriage Of The Conscious

The Worst Tragedy For A Poet Is To Be Admired Through Being Misunderstood.

I Only Fear The Death Of Others. For Me, True Death Is That Of The People I Love

Art Produces Ugly Things Which Frequently Become Beautiful With Time.

An Artist Cannot Speak About His Art Any More Than A Plant Can Discuss Horticulture.

He Has The Manner Of A Giant With The Look Of A Child, A Lazy Activeness, A Mad Wisdom, A Solitude Encompassing The World.