The Writer Must Wade Into Life As

My Foregrounds Are Imaginary, My Backgrounds Real.

One Can Be The Master Of What One Does, But Never Of What One Feels.

Mediocrity Cherishes Rules; As For Me, I Hate Them; I Feel For Them And For Every Restriction, Corporation, Caste, Hierarchy, Level, Herd, A Loathing Which Fills My Soul, And It Is In This Respect Perhaps That I Understand Martyrdom.

Put All Your Rage And Madness Into Your Work And Live As Orderly A Life As Possible.

Caught Up In Life, You See It Badly. You Suffer From It Or Enjoy It Too Much. The Artist, In My Opinion, Is A Monstrosity, Something Outside Of Nature.