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The plastic virtues: purity, unity, and truth, keep nature in subjection.
– Guillaume Apollinaire
Artists are, above all, men who want to become inhuman.
I hate artists who are not of their time.
It’s raining my soul, it’s raining, but it’s raining dead eyes.
Joy always came after pain.
A structure becomes architectural, and not sculptural, when its elements no longer have their justification in nature.
Now and then it’s good to pause in our pursuit of happiness and just be happy.
One can’t carry one’s father’s corpse about everywhere.
When man wanted to make a machine that would walk he created the wheel, which does not resemble a leg.
Without poets, without artists, men would soon weary of nature’s monotony.
I love men, not for what unites them, but for what divides them, and I want to know most of all what gnaws at their hearts.