Art is a marriage of the conscious and the unconscious.

Art is science in the flesh.

It is not I who become addicted, it is my body.

The dead drug leaves a ghost behind. At certain hours it haunts the house.

The joy of youth is to disobey; but the trouble is that there are no longer any orders.

The actual tragedies of life bear no relation to one's preconceived ideas. In the event, one is always bewildered by their simplicity, their grandeur of design, and by that element of the bizarre which seems inherent in them.

A child's reaction to this type of calamity is twofold and extreme. Not knowing how deeply, powerfully, life drops anchor into its vast sources of recuperation, he is bound to envisage, at once, the very worst; yet at the same time, because of his inability to imagine death, the worst remains totally unreal to him. Gerard went on repeating: "Paul's dying; Paul's going to die"' but he did not believe it. Paul's death would be part of the dream, a dream of snow, of journeying forever.