First Of All, The Art Of Living;

Satire Must Not Be A Kind Of Superfluous Ill Will, But Ill Will From A Higher Point Of View. Ridiculous Man, Divine God. Or Else, Hatred Against The Bogged-down Vileness Of Average Man As Against The Possible Heights That Humanity Might Attain.

Beauty Is As Relative As Light And Dark. Thus, There Exists No Beautiful Woman, None At All, Because You Are Never Certain That A Still Far More Beautiful Woman Will Not Appear And Completely Shame The Supposed Beauty Of The First.

I Want To Be As Though New-born, Knowing Nothing, Absolutely Nothing. Then I Want To Do Something Modest; To Work Out By Myself A Tiny, Formal Motive, One That My Pencil Will Be Able To Hold Without Technique.

The Creation Lives As Genesis Beneath The Visible Surface Of The Work. All Intelligent People See This After The Fact, But Only The Creative See It Before The Fact - In The Future.

A Certain Fire Pretends To Be Alive; It Awakens. Working Its Way Along The Hand As A Conductor, It Reaches The Support And Engulfs It; Then A Leaping Spark Closes The Circle It Was To Trace, Coming Back To The Eye And Beyond.