The artist, even when he imitates nature, always feels himself to be not a slave but a demigod.

The artist, even when he imitates nature, always feels himself to be not a slave but a demigod.

I am a cat. As yet I have no name

Loneliness is the price we have to pay for being born in this modern age, so full of freedom, independence, and our own egotistical selves.

On a charcoal kiln a vine keeps climbing, while being burned to death.

I believe that words uttered in passion contain a greater living truth than do those words which express thoughts rationally conceived. It is blood that moves the body. Words are not meant to stir the air only: they are capable of moving greater things.

An artist is a person who lives in the triangle which remains after the angle which we may call common sense has been removed from this four-cornered world.