The eyes of the world are upon you.
Religions die slowly.
I never, for instance, have the urge to paint animals 'the way I see them,' but rather the way they are. . . The way they themselves look at the world and feel their being
We are staunch and true and in rather a champagne mood.
Art has always been and is in its very essence the boldest departure from nature. It is the bridge into the spirit world.
Blue is the male principle, stern and spiritual. Yellow the female principle, gentle, cheerful and sensual. Red is matter, brutal and heavy and always the colour which must be fought and vanquished by the other two.
Is there a more mysterious idea than to imagine how nature is reflected in the eyes of animals?
We must remember that a right lost to one is lost to all.
The generous person is always just, and the just who is always generous may, unannounced, approach the throne of heaven.
What I'm trying to say is: it gets boring when nothing meaningful is discussed about it. It's the same thing when a woman poet writes about suffering - it's a "woman's tendency to depression and grief. " It's not a human, universal tackling of something that exists in all of us. It's suddenly a "woman issue. "
There’s nothing better than an elegant cry of despair.