Imagination without knowledge leads no farther than the back yard of primitive art, the child's scrawl on the fence, and the crank's message in the market place. Art is never simple.

I cannot conceive how anybody in his right mind should go to a psychoanalyst.

All great novels are great fairy tales.

To play safe, I prefer to accept only one type of power: the power of art over trash, the triumph of magic over the brute.

Art at its greatest is fantastically deceitful and complex.

What surprises you in life? The marvel of consciousness -- that sudden window swinging open on a sunlit landscape amidts the night of non-being.

The day, like the previous days, dragged sluggishly by in a kind of insipid idleness, devoid even of that dreamy expectancy which can make idleness so enchanting.