Perfumes, Colours And Sounds Echo One Another.

Nothing Is As Tedious As The Limping Days, When Snowdrifts Yearly Cover All The Ways, And Ennui, Sour Fruit Of Incurious Gloom, Assumes Control Of Fate’s Immortal Loom

Pure Draughtsmen Are Philosophers And Dialecticians. Colourists Are Epic Poets.

Strangeness Is A Necessary Ingredient In Beauty.

Even As A Child I Felt In My Heart Two Opposite Emotions: The Horror Of Life And The Ecstasy Of Life.

A Silent Mouth Is Sweet To Hear.