When truth is buried, it grows. It chokes. It gathers such an explosive force that on the day it bursts out, it blows up everything with it.
In my view you cannot claim to have seen something until you have photographed it.
If people can just love each other a little bit, they can be so happy.
Through the centuries, the history of peoples is but a lesson in mutual tolerance.
The conclusion does not belong to the artist.
She was cold by nature, self-love predominating over passion; rather than being virtuous, she preferred to have her pleasures all to herself.