Ever since my childhood, I was haunted by the search for perfection. An imperfectly cut paper literally made me ill. I would guillotine it.
All things, and man as well, should be like nature, without measure.
Any work that is not rooted in myth and poetry or that does not partake of the depth and essence of the universe is merely a ghost.
DaDa is beautiful like the night, who cradles the young day in her arms.
Artists should work together like the artists of the Middle Ages.
Tooting, howling, screeching, booming, crashing, whistling, grinding, and trilling bolster his [mankind's] ego. His anxiety subsides. His inhuman void spreads monstrously like a gray vegetation.