The thrill of creation which we experience which we experience when we see a masterpiece is not unlike the feeling of the artist who created it; such a work is a fragment of the world which he has annexed and which belongs to him alone.

The basic problem is that our civilization, which is a civilization of machines, can teach man everything except how to be a man.

The great mystery is not that we should have been thrown down here at random between the profusion of matter and that of the stars; it is that from our very prison we should draw, from our own selves, images powerful enough to deny our own nothingness.

The world of art is not a world of immortality but of metamorphosis.

The terrible thing about death is that it transforms life into destiny.

Since 1789 history has had a new perspective, revolution being a successful revolt, and revolt a revolution that has failed.

Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides.