To be deprived of art and left alone with philosophy is to be close to Hell.

All you have to do is close your eyes and wait for the symbols.

We can neither put back the clock nor slow down our forward speed, and as we are already flying pilotless, on instrument controls, it is even too late to ask where we are going.

It is the transcendent (or 'abstract' or 'self-contained') nature of music that the new so called concretism--Pop Art, eighteen-hour slices-of-reality films, musique concrete--opposes. But instead of bringing art and reality closer together, the new movement merely thins out the distinction.

Nothing is likely about masterpieces, least of all whether there will be any.

What force is more potent than love?

What I cannot follow are the manic-depressive fluctuations from total control to no control, from the serialization of all elements to chance.