I Wanted To Meet Other Artists. I

Whereas The Tourist Generally Hurries Back Home At The End Of A Few Weeks Or Months, The Traveler Belonging No More To One Place Than To The Next, Moves Slowly Over Periods Of Years, From One Part Of The Earth To Another. Indeed, He Would Have Found It Difficult To Tell, Among The Many Places He Had Lived, Precisely Where It Was He Had Felt Most At Home.

I Wanted To Meet Other Artists. I Suppose I Simply Felt That I Was Taking Pot Shots At Clay Pipes. Pop! Down Goes Gertrude, Down Goes Jean Cocteau, Down Goes André Gide.

I've Always Wanted To Get As Far As Possible From The Place Where I Was Born. Far Both Geographically And Spiritually. To Leave It Behind ... I Feel That Life Is Very Short And The World Is There To See And One Should Know As Much About It As Possible. One Belongs To The Whole World, Not Just One Part Of It.

The Soul Is The Weariest Part Of The Body.

She Was Saved From Prettiness By The Intensity Of Her Gaze.