We cannot carry our father's corpse with us everywhere we go.

Twentieth pupil of the centuries knows its stuff and bird-changed this century like Jesus climbs the sky.

In this mirror, I am enclosed a live and real as you. Imagine angels and not like the reflections.

Now and then it's good to pause in our pursuit of happiness and just be happy.

Cubism is the art of depicting new wholes with formal elements borrowed not only from the reality of vision, but from that of conception.

Without poets, without artists... everything would fall apart into chaos. There would be no more seasons, no more civilizations, no more thought, no more humanity, no more life even; and impotent darkness would reign forever. Poets and artists together determine the features of their age, and the future meekly conforms to their edit.

Come to the edge.' 'We can't. We're afraid.' 'Come to the edge.' 'We can't. We will fall!' 'Come to the edge.' And they came. And he pushed them. And they flew.