Man cannot produce a single work without the assistance of the slow, assiduous, corrosive worm of thought.

In reality art is always for everyone and for no one.

I am perhaps a late follower of Zoroaster and I believe that the foundation of life is built upon the struggle between the two opposing forces of Good and Evil.

Against the dark background of this contemporary civilization of well-being, even the arts tend to mingle, to lose their identity.

The poet does not know - often he will never know - whom he really writes for.

Evidently the arts, all the visual arts, are becoming more democratic in the worst sense of the word.

I have been judged to be a pessimist but what abyss of ignorance and low egoism is not hidden in one who thinks that Man is the god of himself and that his future can only be triumphant?