The Space Between The Dish And The

I Have Made A Great Discovery. I No Longer Believe In Anything. Objects Don't Exist For Me Except In So Far As A Rapport Exists Between Them And Myself. When One Attains This Harmony, One Reaches A Sort Of Intellectual Non-existence, What I Can Only Describe As A Sense Of Peace, Which Makes Everything Possible And Right. Life Then Becomes A Perpetual Revelation. That Is True Poetry.

Truth Exists, Only Falsehood Has To Be Invented.

I Realized That One Cannot Reveal Oneself Without Mannerism, Without Some Evident Trace Of One's Personality. But All The Same One Should Not Go Too Far In That Direction.

Scientific Perspective Forces The Objects In A Picture To Disappear Away From The Beholder Instead Of Bringing Them Within His Reach As Painting Should.

In Art There Is Only One Thing That Counts: The Bit That Cannot Be Explained.