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.

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

From this observed behavior a major psychological truth about this race of forked destroyers may be deduced: that, just as nature abhors a vacuum, "mankind abhors equality."

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.

Some say that life has no form, that it is extremely diffuse. I think I can agree with them. ... A life without conclusions is painful.

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.