For The Sake Of Goodness

He Probably Was Mediocre After All, Though In A Very Honorable Sense Of That Word.

Art Is The Funnel, As It Were, Through Which Spirit Is Poured Into Life.

Thought That Can Merge Wholly Into Feeling, Feeling That Can Merge Wholly Into Thought - These Are The Artist's Highest Joy.

Distance In A Straight Line Has No Mystery. The Mystery Is In The Sphere.

The Observations And Encounters Of A Solitary, Taciturn Man Are Vaguer And At The Same Times More Intense Than Those Of A Sociable Man; His Thoughts Are Deeper, Odder And Never Without A Touch Of Sadness. Images And Perceptions That Could Be Dismissed With A Glance, A Laugh, An Exchange Of Opinions, Occupy Him Unduly, Become More Intense In The Silence, Become Significant, Become An Experience, An Adventure, An Emotion. Solitude Produces Originality, Bold And Astonishing Beauty, Poetry. But Solitude Also Produces Perverseness, The Disproportionate, The Absurd And The Forbidden.