The mind loves the unknown. It loves images whose meaning is unknown, since the meaning of the mind itself is unknown.

An object is not so attached to its name that we cannot find another one that would suit it better.

The present reeks of mediocrity and the atom bomb.

We are surrounded by curtains. We only perceive the world behind a curtain of semblance. At the same time, an object needs to be covered in order to be recognized at all.

I like subversive humor, freckles, women's knees and long hair, the laughter of playing children, and a girl running down the street.

I need to see the original paintings just as little as I have to read the original manuscripts of books.

Everything we see hides another thing, we always want to see what is hidden by what we see, but it is impossible. Humans hide their secrets too well.