There Is Nothing In Philosophy Which Could

In Short, Intelligence, Considered In What Seems To Be Its Original Feature, Is The Faculty Of Manufacturing Artificial Objects, Especially Tools To Make Tools, And Of Indefinitely Varying The Manufacture.

If Reality Impacted Directly On Our Senses And Our Consciousness, If We Could Have Direct Communication Between The Material World And Ourselves, Art Would Be Unnecessary.

Wherever Anything Lives, There Is, Open Somewhere, A Register In Which Time Is Being Inscribed.

A Situation Is Always Comic If It Participates Simultaneously In Two Series Of Events Which Are Absolutely Independent Of Each Other, And If It Can Be Interpreted In Two Quite Different Meanings.

Art Has No Other Object Than To Set Aside The Symbols Of Practical Utility, The Generalities That Are Conventionally And Socially Accepted, Everything In Fact Which Masks Reality From Us, In Order To Set Us Face To Face With Reality Itself.