Every time you date someone with an issue that you have to work to ignore, you're settling.

It is impossible for me to envisage a picture as being other than a window, and why my first concern is then to know what it looks out on.

Let us not mince words: the marvelous is always beautiful, anything marvelous is beautiful, in fact only the marvelous is beautiful.

Dada is a state of mind.

Words make love with one another.

When will the arbitrary be granted the place it deserves in the formation of works and ideas?

Who am I? If this once I were to rely on a proverb, then perhaps everything would amount to knowing whom I 'haunt.'