Knowledge, absolutely sure of its infallibility, is faith.

Literature is painting, architecture, and music.

The old, slow, creaking descriptions are a thing of the past; today the rule is brevity - but every word must be supercharged, high-voltage.

And everyone must lose his mind, everyone must! The sooner the better! It is essential — I know it.

The flame will cool tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow.... But someone must see this already today, and speak heretically today about tomorrow. Heretics are the only (bitter) remedy against the entropy of human thought.

They do not need the sun. Who needs the sun when the eyes glow? Darkness. A woolen fog has wrapped the earth, has dropped a heavy curtain. From far away, from beyond the curtain, comes the sound of drops falling on stone. Far, far away - the autumn, people, tomorrow. ("The North")

Dogma, static positions, consonance - all these are obstacles to catching the disease of art, at least in its more complex forms.