Nature Is Garrulous To The

My Mirror Probes Down To The Heart. I Write Words On The Forehead And Around The Corners Of The Mouth. My Human Faces Are Truer Than The Real Ones.

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

It Is The Artistic Mission To Penetrate As Far As May Be Toward That Secret Ground Where Primal Law Feeds Growth.

My Hand Has Become The Obedient Instrument Of A Remote Will.

Nature Can Afford To Be Prodigal In Everything, The Artist Must Be Frugal Down To The Last Detail. Nature Is Garrulous To The Point Of Confusion, Let The Artist Be Truly Taciturn.