…what Our Age Needs, What It Demands,

Even In A Personal Sense, After All, Art Is An Intensified Life. By Art One Is More Deeply Satisfied And More Rapidly Used Up. It Engraves On The Countenance Of Its Servant The Traces Of Imaginary And Intellectual Adventures, And Even If He Has Outwardly Existed In Cloistral Tranquility, It Leads In The Long Term To Overfastidiousness, Over-refinement, Nervous Fatigue And Overstimulation, Such As Can Seldom Result From A Life Of The Most Extravagant Passions And Pleasures.

Animals Do Not Admire Each Other. A Horse Does Not Admire Its Companion.

Laughter Is A Sunbeam Of The Soul.

A Man Lives Not Only His Personal Life, As An Individual, But Also, Consciously Or Unconsciously, The Life Of His Epoch And His Contemporaries.

One Must Die To Life In Order To Be Utterly A Creator.