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.

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

Man cuts man with knives and cruel words, never suspecting his turn for being cut will follow. Nature abhors a vacuum. Either love or hatred! Nature likes compensation. Tit for tat! Nature likes a fight. Death or independence!

The profundity of a creative work lies in the degree to which its contents can be summarized in one sentence-a sentence that penetrates human reality'.

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