Art Has Two Constant, Two Unending Concerns:

But Who Are We, Where Do We Come From When All Those Years Nothing But Idle Talk Is Left And We Are Nowhere In The World?" = Meeting =

It Was Not Until After The Coming Of Christ That Time And Humans Could Breathe Freely. It Was Not Until After Him That People Began To Live Toward The Future. Humans Do Not Die In A Ditch Like A Dog-but At Home In History, While The Work Toward The Conquest Of Death Is In Full Swing; They Die Sharing In This Work.

About Dreams. It Is Usually Taken For Granted That You Dream Of Something That Has Made A Particularly Strong Impression On You During The Day, But It Seems To Me It´s Just The Contrary. Often It´s Something You Paid No Attention To At The Time -- A Vague Thought That You Didn´t Bother To Think Out To The End, Words Spoken Without Feeling And Which Passed Unnoticed -- These Are The Things That Return At Night, Clothed In Flesh And Blood, And They Become The Subjects Of Dreams, As If To Make Up For Having Been Ignored During Waking Hours.

In This Era Of World Wars, In This Atomic Age, Values Have Changed. We Have Learned That We Are Guests Of Existence, Travelers Between Two Stations. We Must Discover Security Within Ourselves.

As Far As Modern Writing Is Concerned, It Is Rarely Rewarding To Translate It, Although It Might Be Easy. Translation Is Very Much Like Copying Paintings.