And When Man Faces Destiny,

The Twenty-first Century Will Be Spiritual Or It Will Not Be.

Our Characteristic Response To The Mutilated Statue, The Bronze Dug Up From The Earth, Is Revealing. It Is Not That We Prefer Time-worn Bas-reliefs, Or Rusted Statuettes As Such, Nor Is It The Vestiges Of Death That Grip Us In Them, But Those Of Life. Mutilation Is The Scar Left By The Struggle With Time, And A Reminder Of It - Time Which Is As Much A Part Of Ancient Works Of Art As The Material They Are Made Of, And Thrusts Up Through The Fissures, From A Dark Underworld, Where All Is At Once Chaos And Determinism.

The Thrill Of Creation Which We Experience Which We Experience When We See A Masterpiece Is Not Unlike The Feeling Of The Artist Who Created It; Such A Work Is A Fragment Of The World Which He Has Annexed And Which Belongs To Him Alone.

The Truth About A Man Lies First And Foremost In What He Hides.

In Art, We Are The First Heirs Of All The Earth. . . . Accidents Impair And Time Transforms, But It Is We Who Choose.