Silence is the bluntest of blunt instruments.

All my forebears worked for a living. My grandfather painted portraits. My mother too. My aunt painted seascapes.

The soul is awakened through service.

Perhaps every generation thinks of itself as a lost generation and perhaps every generation is right.

What makes a Man love Death, Fanny? Is it because he hopes to avert his own by watchin' the Deaths of others? Doth he hope to devour Death by devourin' Executions with his Eyes? I'll ne'er understand it, if I live to be eight hundred Years. The Human Beast is more Beast than Human, 'tis true.

Loving someone is a loss of freedom - but one doesn't think of it as loss because one gains so much else.

Art is always an energy exchange.