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Writing is like walking in a deserted street. Out of the dust in the street you make a mud pie.
Writing is like walking in a deserted street. Out of the dust in the street you make a mud pie.
The irrepressible spirit that made his playing seem like good conversation is the Rubinstein legacy for pianists, if they can read more
The irrepressible spirit that made his playing seem like good conversation is the Rubinstein legacy for pianists, if they can pick up their heads from the keyboard long enough to claim it.
Drawing is like making an expressive gesture with the advantage of permanence.
Drawing is like making an expressive gesture with the advantage of permanence.
The arts are not just instantaneous pleasure -- if you don't like it, the artist is wrong. I belong to read more
The arts are not just instantaneous pleasure -- if you don't like it, the artist is wrong. I belong to the generation which says if you don't like it, you don't understand and you ought to find out.
The artist is the opposite of the politically minded individual, the opposite of the reformer, the opposite of the idealist.
The artist is the opposite of the politically minded individual, the opposite of the reformer, the opposite of the idealist.
In a decaying society, art, if it is truthful, must also reflect decay. And unless it wants to break faith read more
In a decaying society, art, if it is truthful, must also reflect decay. And unless it wants to break faith with its social function, art must show the world as changeable. And help to change it.
One day the world will look upon research
on animals as it now looks upon research on human beings.
Da read more
One day the world will look upon research
on animals as it now looks upon research on human beings.
Da Vinci.
Of all the arts in which the wise excel, nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.
Of all the arts in which the wise excel, nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.
The artist one day falls through a hole in the brambles, and from that moment he is following the dark read more
The artist one day falls through a hole in the brambles, and from that moment he is following the dark rapids of an underground river which may sometimes flow so near to the surface that the laughing picnic parties are heard above.
