I Am Happy To Exhibit,

The Poet Is At The Disposal Of The Night. His Role Is Humble, He Must Clean House And Await Its Due Visitation.

Art Is Science In The Flesh.

Artists Can No More Speak About Their Work, Than Plants Can Speak About Horticulture.

Continue Reading Proust. His Magnificent Intelligence Is Particularly Fond Of Describing Stupidity. Which Is Ultimately Exhausting.

The Public Only Takes Up Yesterday As A Stick To Beat Today.