I Paint In Order Not To Cry.

A Line Comes Into Being. It Goes Out For A Walk, So To Speak, Aimlessly For The Sake Of The Walk.

I Must Begin, Not With Hypothesis, But With Specific Instances, No Matter How Minute.

Beauty Is As Relative As Light And Dark. Thus, There Exists No Beautiful Woman, None At All, Because You Are Never Certain That A Still Far More Beautiful Woman Will Not Appear And Completely Shame The Supposed Beauty Of The First.

Frightened, I Jump Up From The Bank, The Struggle Begins Anew. Bitterness Has Returned. I Am Not Pan In The Reed, I Am Merely A Human Being And Want To Climb A Few Steps, But Really Climb Them.

Art Makes Something A Lot More Visible Or Audible.