Art grows out of modes of perception that make you feel and think...that hooks on to something deep-running in our natures.

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

But the existence of a cult does not mean that images appropriate to it automatically follow.

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.

One thing is sure: the Sagrada Familia is the first Catholic temple whose bacon was ever saved by Shinto tourism. Not even Gaudi, who believed in miracles, could have forseen that.

The hallmark of the minor artist is to be obsessed with style as an end in itself.

The World's Fair audience tended to think of the machine as unqualifiedly good, strong, stupid and obedient. They thought of it as a giant slave, an untiring steel Negro, controlled by Reason in a world of infinite resources.