Art is the instinctive application of the knowledge latent in the subconscious.

For I am I: ergo, the truth of myself; my own sphinx, conflict, chaos, vortex—asymmetric to all rhythms, oblique to all paths. I am the prism between black and white: mine own unison in duality.

In a universe that defies description, all systems of belief can only be false.

Embrace reality by imagination.

In our solitariness... great depths are sometimes sounded. Truth hideth in company.

The three heads of God were sundered from existence. Who shall say that this was accident? And likewise, who shall say that accidents be not but arabesques within some wider figure? Of this nothing is known.

Art is the instinctive application of the knowledge latent in the subconscious.