Any Artist Who Respects Himself

A Brilliant Liar; He Has Total Recall.

I Could Have Protested Of Course, Who Says I Couldn't--i Could Have Risen To My Feet At Any Moment, Walked Up To Them, And--no Matter How Difficult It Would Have Been--made It Abundantly Clear That I Was Not Seventeen But Thirty. I Could Have--yet I Couldn't Because I Didn't Want To, The Only Thing I Wanted Was To Prove That I Was Not An Old-fashioned Boy!

To Me, Art Almost Always Speaks More Forcefully When It Appears In An Imperfect, Accidental, And Fragmentary Way, Somehow Just Signaling Its Presence, Allowing One To Feel It Through The Ineptitude Of The Interpretation. I Prefer The Chopin That Reaches Me In The Street From An Open Window To The Chopin Served In Great Style From The Concert Stage.

You, Oh Mature Ones, Keep Company Solely With Other Mature Ones, And Your Maturity Is So Mature That It Can Only Chum Up With Maturity!

There Were Three Of Us; Witkiewicz, Bruno Schulz, And Myself--the Three Muskateers Of The Polish Avant-garde Between The Wars. Only Witkiewicz Remains To Be Discovered.