The Older I Grow, The

In A Burning Building I Would Save A Cat Before A Rembrandt.

I Don't Know If I Work In Order To Do Something, Or In Order To Know Why I Can't Do What I Want To Do.

Taste For Things Of The Past Evolves, Doesn't It? What Was A Masterpiece A Hundred Years Ago Is No Longer So Today.

All I Can Do Will Only Ever Be A Faint Image Of What I See And My Success Will Always Be Less Than My Failure Or Perhaps Equal To The Failure.

All The Art Of The Past Rises Up Before Me, The Art Of All Ages And All Civilizations, Everything Becomes Simultaneous, As If Space Had Replaced Time. Memories Of Works Of Art Blend With Affective Memories, With My Work, With My Whole Life.