You adapt yourself to the contents of the paintbox.
Becoming is superior to being.
I still come closest to success with drawing.
My mirror probes down to the heart. I write words on the forehead and around the corners of the mouth. My human faces are truer than the real ones.
A single day is enough to make us a little larger or, another time, a little smaller.
Satire must not be a kind of superfluous ill will, but ill will from a higher point of view. Ridiculous man, divine God. Or else, hatred against the bogged-down vileness of average man as against the possible heights that humanity might attain.