The Artist Secretes Nostalgia Around Life.

Beneath A Mask Of Selfish Tranquility Nothing Exists Except Bitterness And Boredom.

The True Work Of Art Is The One Which The Seventh Wave Of Genius Throws Up The Beach Where The Undertow Of Time Cannot Drag It Back.

No-one Was Ever Made Wretched In A Brothel.

Today The Function Of The Artist Is To Bring Imagination To Science And Science To Imagination, Where They Meet, In The Myth.

We Love But Once, For Once Only Are We Perfectly Equipped For Loving.