I wonder if memory is true, and I know that it cannot be, but that one lives by memory nevertheless and not by truth.
I am an inventor of music.
Silence will save me from being wrong (and foolish), but it will also deprive me of the possibility of being right.
Art is the opposite of chaos. Art is organized chaos.
Revolution means turning the wheel.
One has a nose. The nose scents and it chooses. An artist is simply a kind of pig snouting truffles.