That I exist is a perpetual surprise which is life.

There is a point where in the mystery of existence contradictions meet; where movement is not all movement and stillness is not all stillness; where the idea and the form, the within and the without, are united; where infinite becomes finite, yet not losing its infinity. If this meeting is dissolved, then things become unreal.

Man goes into the noisy crowd to drown his own clamour of silence.

The biggest changes in a women's nature are brought by love; in man, by ambition

Night's darkness is a bag that bursts with the gold of the dawn.

Love's over brimming mystery joins death and life. It has filled my cup of pain with joy.

In Art, man reveals himself and not his objects.