In art there is no progress, only fluctuations of intensity.

It is an oldish question, but not perhaps a very interesting one, whether cooking is an art or not.

There is virtue in virtuosity, especially today, when it protects us from the tedious spectacle of ineptitude.

Works of art... do not force meanings on their audience; meaning emerges, adds up, unfolds from their imagined centres... takes one through the process of discovering meaning.

What does one prefer? An art that struggles to change the social contract, but fails? Or one that seeks to please and amuse, and succeeds?

Nothing they design ever gets in the way of a work of art

Political stress is always apt to shrink the private arena and attach it on to the public