As for types like my own, obscurely motivated by the conviction that our existence was worthless if we didn't make a turning point of it, we were assigned to the humanities, to poetry, philosophy, painting - the nursery games of humankind, which had to be left behind when the age of science began. The humanities would be called upon to choose a wallpaper for the crypt, as the end drew near.

Each man has his own batch of poems.

Fun comes hard - like, alas, its prarens, pleasure and happiness, whom we have to pursue.

From Euclid to Newton there were straight lines. The modern age analyzes the wavers.

Love is the most potent cosmetic.

I feel that art has something to do with the achievement of stillness in the midst of chaos.

Art is order, made out of the chaos of life.