We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.

The monster I kill every day is the monster of realism. The monster who attacks me every day is destruction. Out of the duel comes the transformation. I turn destruction into creation over and over again.

If you are terribly truthful, the ground will always move from under you, and you will have to shift with the constantly shifting truth.

I miss the animal buoyancy of New York, the animal vitality. I did not mind that it had no meaning and no depth.

The love of only one man or one woman is an enclosure.

We did not touch each other. We were both leaning over the abyss.

But the artist persists because he has the will to create, and this is the magic power which can transform and transfigure and transpose and which will ultimately be transmitted to others.