Geometry Is To The Plastic Arts What

One Day/ One Day I Waited For Myself/ I Said To Myself Guillaume It's Time You Came/ So I Could Know Just Who I Am/ I Who Know Others.

I Sing The Joy Of Wandering And The Pleasure Of The Wanderer's Death

Without Poets, Without Artists... Everything Would Fall Apart Into Chaos. There Would Be No More Seasons, No More Civilizations, No More Thought, No More Humanity, No More Life Even; And Impotent Darkness Would Reign Forever. Poets And Artists Together Determine The Features Of Their Age, And The Future Meekly Conforms To Their Edit.

Color Is The Fruit Of Life.

The Plastic Virtues: Purity, Unity, And Truth, Keep Nature In Subjection.