In Russia I Went To A Great

If A Person Has A Contribution To Make, He Must Make It In Public. If Learning Is Not Made Public, It Is A Waste.

A Man Is Born Into This World With Only A Tiny Spark Of Goodness In Him. The Spark Is God, It Is The Soul; The Rest Is Ugliness And Evil, A Shell. The Spark Must Be Guarded Like A Treasure, It Must Be Nurtured, It Must Be Fanned Into Flame. It Must Learn To Seek Out Other Sparks, It Must Dominate The Shell. Anything Can Be A Shell, Reuven. Anything. Indifference, Laziness, Brutality, And Genius. Yes, Even A Great Mind Can Be A Shell And Choke The Spark.

Art Begins . . . When Someone Interprets, When Someone Sees The World Through His Own Eyes. Art Happens When What Is Seen Becomes Mixed With The Inside Of The Person Who Is Seeing It.

…everything Has A Past. Everything – A Person, An Object, A Word, Everything. If You Don’t Know The Past, You Can’t Understand The Present And Plan Properly For The Future.

I Looked At My Right Hand, The Hand With Which I Painted. There Was Power In That Hand. Power To Create And Destroy. Power To Bring Pleasure And Pain. Power To Amuse And Horrify. There Was In That Hand The Demonic And The Divine At One And The Same Time. The Demonic And The Divine Were Two Aspects Of The Same Force. Creation Was Demonic And Divine. Creativity Was Demonic And Divine. I Was Demonic And Divine.