It was a morning in early summer. A silver haze shimmered and trembled over the lime trees. The air was laden with their fragrance. The temperature was like a caress. I remember - I need not recall - that I climbed up a tree stump and felt suddenly immersed in Itness. I did not call it by that name. I had no need for words. It and I were one.

The Renaissance had resulted in the emancipation of the individual, in making him feel that the universe had no other purpose than his happiness. This brought an entirely new answer to the question, 'Why should I do this or that?' It used to be, 'Because self-instituted authority command you.' The answer now was, 'Because it is good for men.' In this lies our greatest debt to the Renaissance, that it instituted the welfare of men as the end of all action.

No artifact is a work of art if it does not help to humanize us. Without art...our world would have remained a jungle.

I would I could stand on a busy corner, hat in hand, and beg people to throw me all their wasted hours.

The ultimate justification of the work of art is to help the spectator to become a work of art himself.

Miracles happen to those who believe in them. Otherwise why does not the Virgin Mary appear to Lamaists, Mohammedans, or Hindus who have never heard of her.

Art is mind and heart and touch as much and more than it is mere instrument, technique - without which however it cannot exist at all.