Every Man Is Made Of Clay And

Gamblers And Lovers Really Play To Lose.

For Us Artists There Waits The Joyous Compromise Through Art With All That Wounded Or Defeated Us In Daily Life; In This Way, Not To Evade Destiny, As The Ordinary People Try To Do, But To Fulfil It In Its True Potential - The Imagination.

How Grudging Memory Is, And How Bitterly She Clutches The Raw Material Of Her Daily Work.

They Flower Spontaneously Out Of The Demands Of Our Natures - And The Best Of Them Lead Us Not Only Outward In Space, But Inward As Well.

The Heaviest Impact Of The Work Of Art Is In The Guts. Art Does Not Reason. It Manhandles You And Changes You.