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Today We Haven't The Heart To Expel The Painters And Poets From Society Because We Refuse To Admit To Ourselves That There Is Any Danger In Keeping Them In Our Midst.

In Every Photographer There Was A Painter, A True Artist, Awaiting Expression.

Beauty? To Me It Is A Word Without Sense Because I Do Not Know Where Its Meaning Comes From Nor Where It Leads To.

Everything We Can Dream Can Be Real.

Museums Are Just A Lot Of Lies, And The People Who Make Art Their Business Are Mostly Imposters. We Have Infected The Pictures In Museums With All Our Stupidities, All Our Mistakes, All Our Poverty Of Spirit. We Have Turned Them Into Petty And Ridiculous Things.