Look out! Be on your guard, because alone of all the arts, music moves all around you.

Picasso said that everything is a miracle, that it's a miracle that we don't dissolve in our baths.

Poets don't draw. They unravel their handwriting and then tie it up again, but differently.

The runner stopped dead, lost his balance, froze in one of those violent attitudes in which the photographers petrify living reality.

Since these mysteries exceed my grasp, I shall pretend to have organized them.

An original artist is unable to copy. So he has only to copy in order to be original.

Expect neither reward nor beatitude. Return noble waves for ignoble.