To Restrict The Artist Is A Crime.

My Mother Is A Very Strange Woman... She Doesn't Understand Me In The Least And Doesn't Love Me Much Either. If She Had Either Love Or Understanding She Would Be Prepared To Make Sacrifices

Everything Is Dead While It Lives.

At Present, I Am Mainly Observing The Physical Motion Of Mountains, Water, Trees And Flowers. One Is Everywhere Reminded Of Similar Movements In The Human Body, Of Similar Impulses Of Joy And Suffering In Plants.

No Erotic Work Of Art Is Filth If It Is Artistically Significant; It Is Only Turned Into Filth Through The Beholder If He Is Filthy.

I Don't Know Whether There Is Anyone Else At All Who Remembers My Noble Father With Such Sadness