He Once Said That He Wished To

And Even This Heart Of Mine Has Something Artificial. The Dancers Have Sewn It Into A Bag Of Pink Satin, Pink Satin Slightly Faded, Like Their Dancing Shoes.

The Dance Instills In You Something That Sets You Apart. Something Heroic And Remote.

I Felt So Insufficiently Equipped, So Unprepared, So Weak, And At The Same Time It Seemed To Me That My Reflections On Art Were Correct. I Quarreled With All The World And With Myself.

I Have Been, Or Seemed, Hard With Everyone Because I Was Carried Away By A Sort Of Brutality Born Of My Distrust In Myself And My Ill-humor. I Have Felt So Badly Equipped, So Soft, In Spite Of The Fact That My Attitude Towards Art Seemed To Me So Just. I Was Disgusted With Everyone, And Especially Myself.

The Moods Of Sadness That Come Over Anyone Who Takes Up Art... These Dismal Moods Have Very Little Compensation.