Paint, Not The Thing But The Effect

The Poetic Act Consists Of Suddenly Seeing That An Idea Splits Up Into A Number Of Equal Motifs And Of Grouping Them; They Rhyme.

Every Soul Is A Melody Which Needs Renewing.

I Have Made A Long Enough Descent Into The Void To Speak With Certainty. There Is Nothing But Beauty--and Beauty Has Only One Perfect Expression, Poetry. All The Rest Is A Lie.

Paint, Not The Thing But The Effect Which It Produces.

In A Museum In London There Is An Exhibit Called "the Value Of Man": A Long Coffinlike Box With Lots Of Compartments Where They've Put Starch Phosphorus Flour Bottles Of Water And Alcohol And Big Pieces Of Gelatin. I Am A Man Like That.