The background reveals the true being and state of being of the man or thing. If I do not possess the background, I make the man transparent, the thing transparent.

The greatest assassin of life is haste, the desire to reach things before the right time which means overreaching them.

The urban man is an uprooted tree, he can put out leaves, flowers and grow fruit but what a nostalgia his leaf, flower, and fruit will always have for mother earth!

If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.

Rodin picks a mushroom delighted, and shows it to Madame Rodin... "Look," he says excitedly, "and that takes but a single night! In one night all these are made, all these lamellas. That is good work."

Sharp nostalgia, infinite and terrible, for what I already possess.

To live is nothing more than to come here to die, to be what we were before being born, but with apprenticeship, experience, knowledge of cause, and perhaps with will.