What I expect from any work of art is that it surprises me, that it violates my customary valuations of things and offers me other, unexpected ones.

Dancing is the last word in life. In dancing one draws nearer to oneself.

There is no art without intoxication. But I mean a mad intoxication! Let reason teeter! Delirium!

For me, insanity is super sanity. The normal is psychotic. Normal means lack of imagination, lack of creativity.

In the name of what - except perhaps the coefficient of rarity - does man adorn himself with necklaces of shells and not spider's webs, with fox fur and not fox innards? In the name of what I don't know. Don't dirt, trash and filth, which are man's companions during his whole lifetime, deserve to be dearer to him and isn't it serving him well to remind him of their beauty?

Art must make you laugh a little and make you a little afraid. Anything as long as it doesn't bore.

The things we truly love, the things forming the basis and roots of our being, are generally things we never look at. A huge piece of carpeting, empty and naked plains, silent and uninterrupted stretches with nothing to alter the homogeneity of their continuity. I love wide, homogenous worlds, unstaked, unlimited like the sea, like high snows, deserts, and steppes.