Perfection is attained, not when no more can be added, but when no more can be removed.

Perhaps creativity is fumbling that dance step, or driving the chisel the wrong way into the stone.

I am a fox", the fox said.

You know... when you are sad you love the sunsets.

Perfection is finally attained not when there is no longer anything to add, but when there is no longer anything to take away, when a body has been stripped down to its nakedness.

No destiny attacks us from outside. But, within him, man bears his fate and there comes a moment when he knows himself vulnerable; and then, as in a vertigo, blunder upon blunder lures him.

Man is a knot into which relationships are tied.