Every creation is, at its root, the struggle between potential form and imitated form.

Genius is not perfected, it is deepened. It does not so much interpret the world as fertilize itself with it.

In a world in which everything is subject to the passing of time, art alone is both subject to time and yet victorious over it.

Opium teaches only one thing, which is that aside from physical suffering, there is nothing real.

As for the outside world, the artist is confronted by what he sees; but what he sees is primarily what he looks at.

If you can't make art, make your life a work of art.

The only domain where the divine is visible is that of art, whatever name we choose to call it.