In My Youth, Poverty Enriched Me, But

I Am Working In Paris . I Cannot For A Single Day Get The Thought Out Of My Head That There Probably Exists Something Essential, Some Immutable Reality, And Now That I Have Lost Everything Else (thank God, It Gets Lost All On Its Own) I Am Trying To Preserve This And, What Is More, Not To Be Content. In A Word: I Am Working.

In The Arts, As In Life, Everything Is Possible Provided It Is Based On Love.

Color Is Vibration Like Music; Everything Is Vibration.

Work Isn't To Make Money; You Work To Justify Life.

All Our Interior World Is Reality, And That, Perhaps, More So Than Our Apparent World.