Art Has Absolutely No Existence As Veracity,

I Have Forced Myself To Contradict Myself In Order To Avoid Conforming To My Own Taste.

Living Is More A Question Of What One Spends Than What One Makes.

In New York In 1915 I Bought At A Hardware Store A Snow Shovel On Which I Wrote In Advance Of The Broken Arm .

Can One Make Works Which Are Not Works Of 'art'?

The Creative Act Is Not Performed By The Artist Alone; The Spectator Brings The Work In Contact With The External World By Deciphering And Interpreting Its Inner Qualifications And Thus Adds His Contribution To The Creative Act.