It Does Not Seem That The Contradiction

Sentir Mon Cœur Is A Privilege Only Granted To The Exceptional Man - The One Who Has The Ability To Find Words That Exactly (or, To Himself, Convincingly) Express His Feelings... The Value Of Words Help To Define The Feeling Itself... The Common Failure Is To Allow Habitual Words And Phrases, Flowing Spontaneously From The Memory, To Determine And Deform The Feelings.

Spontaneity Is Not Enough - Or, To Be More Exact, Spontaneity Is Not Possible Until There Is An Unconscious Coordination Of Form, Space And Vision.

In A Sense, Every Tool Is A Machine--the Hammer, The Ax, And The Chisel. And Every Machine Is A Tool. The Real Distinction Is Between One Man Using A Tool With His Hands And Producing An Object That Shows At Every Stage The Direction Of His Will And The Impression Of His Personality; And A Machine Which Is Producing, Without The Intervention Of A Particular Man, Objects Of A Uniformity And Precision That Show No Individual Variation And Have No Personal Charm. The Problem Is To Decide Whether The Objects Of Machine Production Can Possess The Essential Qualities Of Art.

I Know Of No Better Name Than Anarchism.

Works Of Art Must Persist As Objects Of Contemplation.