In Art There Are Only Two Types

Art = A Mad Search For Individualism.

Poor Artist! You Gave Away Part Of Your Soul When You Painted The Picture Which You Are Now Trying To Dispose Of.

Oh Mysterious World Of All Light, Thou Hast Made A Light Shine Within Me, And I Have Grown In Admiration Of Thy Antique Beauty, Which Is The Immemorial Youth Of Nature.

The Flat Sound Of My Wooden Clogs On The Cobblestones, Deep, Hollow And Powerful, Is The Note I Seek In My Painting.

Whatever May Happen The Sun Will Rise Tomorrow As It Rose To-day, Beneficent And Serene.