This deliberately nurtured hatred then spreads to all that is alive, to life itself, to the world with its colors, sounds, and shapes, to the human body. The embittered art of the twentieth century is perishing as a result of this ugly hate, for art is fruitless without love. In the East art has collapsed because it has been knocked down and trampled upon, but in the West the fall has been voluntary, a decline into a contrived and pretentious quest where the artist, instead of attempting to reveal the divine plan, tries to put himself in the place of God.

A genius doesn't adjust his treatment of a theme to a tyrant's taste

Why should I trust you? We haven't drunk from the same bowl of soup.

The task must be to banish from mankind's thought the idea that anybody has the right to use force against righteousness, against justice, against mutual agreements.

A strong man never loses his head in defeat or despondency.

If one is forever cautious, can one remain a human being?

Let all of us who shared the prison soup meet again in better times!