Life Is To Blame For Everything.

To Love Something As An Artist ... Means To Be Shaken Not By Its Ultimate Value Or Lack Of Value, But By A Side Of It That Suddenly Opens Up. Where Art Has Value It Shows Things That Few Have Seen. It's Conquering, Not Pacifying.

Life Is To Blame For Everything.

Time, Which Runs Through The World Like An Endless Tinsel Thread, Seemed To Pass Through The Centre Of This Room And Through The Centre Of These People And Suddenly To Pause And Petrify, Stiff, Still And Glittering... And The Objects In The Room Drew A Little Closer Together.

... The Genius Never Makes Anything New, But Always Something That Is Just Different, And The Average Talents Provide Him The Possibility Within Which His Genius Condenses Into Achievements.

You See How Wrong I Go, How Ridiculous I'm Making Myself In Your Eyes By Keeping On Guessing Wrong Like This! Doesn't That Help You To Come Out With It? Come On Now!