The Artist Who Aims At Perfection In

I Live In Company With A Body, A Silent Companion, Exacting And Eternal.

The Outcome Of My Days Is Always The Same; An Infinite Desire For What One Never Gets; A Void One Cannot Fill; An Utter Yearning To Produce In All Ways, To Battle As Much As Possible Against Time That Drags Us Along, And The Distractions That Throw A Veil Over Our Soul.

One Always Has To Spoil A Picture A Little Bit, In Order To Finish It.

Commonplace People Have An Answer For Everything And Nothing Ever Surprises Them. They Try To Look As Though They Knew What You Were About To Say Better Than You Did Yourself, And When It Is Their Turn To Speak, They Repeat With Great Assurance Something That They Have Heard Other People Say, As Though It Were Their Own Invention.

As For The Ridiculous Fear Of Making Things Below One's Potential Abilities... No, There Is The Root Of The Evil. There Is The Hiding Place Of Stupidity I Must Attack: Vain Mortal, You Are Limited By Nothing.