Make Chance Essential.

From The Root, The Sap Rises Up Into The Artist, Flows Through Him, Flows To His Eye. Overwhelmed And Activated By The Force Of The Current, He Conveys His Vision Into His Work. And Yet, Standing At His Appointed Place As The Trunk Of The Tree, He Does Nothing Other Than Gather And Pass On What Rises From The Depths. He Neither Serves Nor Commands He Transmits. His Position Is Humble. And The Beauty At The Crown Is Not His Own; It Has Merely Passed Through Him.

Art Should Be Like A Holiday: Something To Give A Man The Opportunity To See Things Differently And To Change His Point Of View.

The Worst State Of Affairs Is When Science Begins To Concern Itself With Art.

Color Is The Place Where Our Brain And The Universe Meet.

The Way To Form Transcends Its Own Destination, Goes Beyond The End Of The Way Itself.