Music Is A Means Of Rapid Transportation.

Our Poetry Now Is The Realization That We Possess Nothing. Anything Therefore Is A Delight (since We Do Not Posses It) And Thus Need Not Fear Its Loss.

Where Does Beauty Begin? Where Does It End? Where It Ends Is Where The Artist Begins.

There Are Some Good People In It, But The Orchestra As A Whole Is Equivalent To A Gang Bent On Destruction.

I Want To Change My Way Of Seeing, Not My Way Of Feeling. I Was Perfectly Happy About My Feelings.

When You Start Working, Everybody Is In Your Studio- The Past, Your Friends, Enemies, The Art World, And Above All, Your Own Ideas- All Are There. But As You Continue Painting, They Start Leaving, One By One, And You Are Left Completely Alone. Then, If You Are Lucky, Even You Leave.