In Art There Are Only Two Types

A Nude By Degas Is Chaste. But His Women Wash In Tubs!

Under The Continual Contact With The Pebbles My Feet Have Become Hardened And Used To The Ground. My Body, Almost Constantly Nude, No Longer Suffers From The Sun. Civilization Is Falling From Me Little By Little. I Am Beginning To Think Simply, To Feel Only Very Little Hatred For My Neighbor - Rather, To Love Him.

A Critic In My House Sees Some Paintings. Greatly Perturbed, He Asks For My Drawings. My Drawings? Never! They Are My Letters, My Secrets.

The Work Of A Man Is The Explanation Of The Man.

All The Joys - Animal And Human - Of A Free Life Are Mine. I Have Escaped Everything That Is Artificial, Conventional, Customary.