The Slave May Be Happy, But Happiness

Sentir Mon Cœur Is A Privilege Only Granted To The Exceptional Man - The One Who Has The Ability To Find Words That Exactly (or, To Himself, Convincingly) Express His Feelings... The Value Of Words Help To Define The Feeling Itself... The Common Failure Is To Allow Habitual Words And Phrases, Flowing Spontaneously From The Memory, To Determine And Deform The Feelings.

Progress Is Measured By Richness And Intensity Of Experience - By A Wider And Deeper Apprehension Of The Significance And Scope Of Human Existence.

Art Is Pattern Informed By Sensibility.

The Modern Work Of Art, As I Have Said, Is A Symbol.

I Know Of No Better Name Than Anarchism.