In the distance, the gestures of animals look human, the gestures of human beings bestial.

The flower in the vase smiles, but no longer laughs.

Monkeys are superior to men in this: when a monkey looks into a mirror, he sees a monkey.

The glance embroiders in joy, knits in pain, and sews in boredom. When indifferent, the eye takes stills, when interested, movies. Laughter is regional: a smile extends over the whole face.

Animals awaken, first facially, then bodily. Men's bodies wake before their faces do. The animal sleeps within its body, man sleeps with his body in his mind.

We sometimes laugh from ear to ear, but it would be impossible for a smile to be wider than the distance between our eyes.

Art is nature speeded up and God slowed down.