You Can Plan Events, But If They

In The Modern World, In Which Thousands Of People Are Dying Every Hour As A Consequence Of Politics, No Writing Anywhere Can Begin To Be Credible Unless It Is Informed By Political Awareness And Principles. Writers Who Have Neither Product Utopian Trash.

Protest And Anger Practically Always Derives From Hope, And The Shouting Out Against Injustice Is Always In The Hope Of Those Injustices Being Somewhat Corrected And A Little More Justice Established.

The Heart Of Paris Is Like Nothing So Much As The Unending Interior Of A House. Buildings Become Furniture, Courtyards Become Carpets And Arrases, The Streets Are Like Galleries, The Boulevards Conservatories. It Is A House, One Or Two Centuries Old, Rich, Bourgeois, Distinguished. The Only Way Of Going Out, Or Shutting The Door Behind You, Is To Leave The Centre.

I Wanted To Write About Looking At The World, So It's More About Helping People, Or Persuading People, To See What Is Around Us; Both The Marvellous And The Terrible.

We Who Draw Do So Not Only To Make Something Observed Visible To Others, But Also To Accompany Something Invisible To Its Incalculable Destination