My Wish Is That You May Be

Of All Those Arts In Which The Wise Excel, Nature's Chief Masterpiece Is Writing Well.

To Speak Of God, To Think Of God, Is In Every Respect To Show What One Is Made Of. I Have Always Wagered Against God And I Regard The Little That I Have Won In This World As Simply The Outcome Of This Bet. However Paltry May Have Been The Stake (my Life) I Am Conscious Of Having Won To The Full. Everything That Is Doddering, Squint-eyed, Vile, Polluted And Grotesque Is Summoned Up For Me In That One Word: God!

I Find It Impossible To Think Of A Picture Save As A Window, And My First Concern About A Window Is To Find Out What It Looks Out On... And There Is Nothing I Love So Much As Something Which Stretches Away From Me Out Of Sight.

Surrealism Will Usher You Into Death, Which Is A Secret Society. It Will Glove Your Hand, Burying Therein The Profound M With Which The Word Memory Begins.

It Will In The End, Be Admitted That Everything, In Effect Is An Image And That The Least Object Which Has No Symbolic Role Assigned To It Is Capable Of Standing For Absolutely Anything.