In Moscow you sit in a huge room at a restaurant; you know no one and no one knows you, and at the same time you don't feel a stranger. But here you know everyone and everyone knows you, and yet you are a stranger - a stranger... A stranger, and lonely...

The illusion which exalts us is dearer to us than ten thousand truths.

If you cry 'forward', you must without fail make plain in what direction to go.

Money, like vodka, turns a person into an eccentric.

The sea has neither meaning nor pity.

To describe drunkenness for the colorful vocabulary is rather cynical. There is nothing easier than to capitalize on drunkards.

You are right in demanding that an artist approach his work consciously, but you are confusing two concepts: the solution of a problem and the correct formulation of a problem. Only the second is required of the artist.