I Cannot Be Grasped In The Here

From The Root, The Sap Rises Up Into The Artist, Flows Through Him, Flows To His Eye. Overwhelmed And Activated By The Force Of The Current, He Conveys His Vision Into His Work. And Yet, Standing At His Appointed Place As The Trunk Of The Tree, He Does Nothing Other Than Gather And Pass On What Rises From The Depths. He Neither Serves Nor Commands He Transmits. His Position Is Humble. And The Beauty At The Crown Is Not His Own; It Has Merely Passed Through Him.

The Beautiful, Which Is Perhaps Inseparable From Art, Is Not After All Tied To The Subject, But To The Pictorial Representation. In This Way And In No Other Does Art Overcome The Ugly Without Avoiding It.

A Drawing Is Simply A Line Going For A Walk.

Children Also Have Artistic Ability, And There Is Wisdom In There Having It! The More Helpless They Are, The More Instructive Are The Examples They Furnish Us; And They Must Be Preserved Free Of Corruption From An Early Age.

Sometimes I Dream Of A Work Of Really Great Breadth, Ranging Through The Whole Region Of Object, Meaning, And Style. This, I Fear, Will Remain A Dream, But It Is A Good Thing To Bear The Possibility Occasionally In Mind.