He Is Trying To Recapture His Innocence,

When Spring Comes To Paris The Humblest Mortal Alive Must Feel That He Dwells In Paradise.

We Do Not Talk - We Bludgeon One Another With Facts And Theories Gleaned From Cursory Readings Of Newspapers, Magazines And Digests.

Cluster Together Like Stars!

All My Good Reading, You Might Say, Was Done In The Toilet.

Art Is Only A Means To Life, To The Life More Abundant. It Is Not In Itself The Life More Abundant. It Merely Points The Way, Something Which Is Overlooked Not Only By The Public, But Very Often By The Artist Himself. In Becoming An End It Defeats Itself.