The Joy Of Life Consists In The

Doubts Must Be Resolved Alone Within The Soul. Otherwise One Would Profane One's Own Powerful Solution.

Color Is The Keyboard, The Eyes Are The Harmonies, The Soul Is The Piano With Many Strings. The Artist Is The Hand That Plays, Touching One Key Or Another, To Cause Vibrations In The Soul.

Color Is The Keyboard. The Eye Is The Hammer. The Soul Is The Piano, With Its Many Strings.

An Empty Canvas, Apparently Really Empty, That Says Nothing And Is Without Significance – Almost Dull, In Fact – In Reality, Is Crammed With Thousands Of Undertone Tensions And Full Of Expectancy. Slightly Apprehensive Lest It Should Be Outraged.

Everything Shows Me Its Face, Its Innermost Being, Its Secret Soul, Which Is More Often Silent Than Heard.