It Is From The Womb Of Art

Our Religion Is Itself Profoundly Sad - A Religion Of Universal Anguish, And One Which, Because Of Its Very Catholicity, Grants Full Liberty To The Individual And Asks No Better Than To Be Celebrated In Each Man's Own Language - So Long As He Knows Anguish And Is A Painter.

Immediate Work, Even Poor, Is Worth More Than Dreams.

I Am Unable To Understand How A Man Of Honor Could Take A Newspaper In His Hands Without A Shudder Of Disgust.

Anybody, Providing He Knows How To Be Amusing, Has The Right To Talk About Himself.

Blessed Art Thou, Lord, Who Giveth Suffering As A Divine Remedy For Our Impurities.