To The Lover The Loved One Always

Never Stop Writing Because You Have Run Out Of Ideas. Fill The Lacunae Of Inspiration By Tidily Copying Out What Is Already Written.

Genuine Polemics Approach A Book As Lovingly As A Cannibal Spices A Baby.

Any Order Is A Balancing Act Of Extreme Precariousness.

Not To Find One's Way Around A City Does Not Mean Much. But To Lose One's Way In A City, As One Loses One's Way In A Forest, Requires Some Schooling. Street Names Must Speak To The Urban Wanderer Like The Snapping Of Dry Twigs, And Little Streets In The Heart Of The City Must Reflect The Times Of Day, For Him, As Clearly As A Mountain Valley. This Art I Acquired Rather Late In Life; It Fulfilled A Dream, Of Which The First Traces Were Labyrinths On The Blotting Papers In My School Notebooks.

Painting, By Its Nature, Cannot Provide An Object Of Simultaneous Collective Reception... As Film Is Able To Do Today... And While Efforts Have Been Made To Present Paintings To The Masses In Galleries And Salons, This Mode Of Reception Gives The Masses No Means Of Organizing And Regulating Their Response. Thus, The Same Public Which Reacts Progressively To A Slapstick Comedy Inevitably Displays A Backward Attitude Toward Surrealism.