In Art, We Are The

Always, However Brutal An Age May Actually Have Been, Its Style Transmits Its Music Only.

As For The Outside World, The Artist Is Confronted By What He Sees; But What He Sees Is Primarily What He Looks At.

Could We Bring Ourselves To Feel What The First Spectators Of An Egyptian Statue, Or A Romanesque Crucifixion, Felt, We Would Make Haste To Remove Them From The Louvre. True, We Are Trying More And More To Gauge The Feelings Of Those First Spectators, But Without Forgetting Our Own, And We Can Be Contented All The More Easily With The Mere Knowledge Of The Former, Without Experiencing Them, Because All We Wish To Do Is Put This Knowledge To The Work Of Art.

The Ordinary Man Puts Up A Struggle Against All That Is Not Himself, Whereas It Is Against Himself, In A Limited But All-essential Field, That The Artist Has To Battle.

The Attempt To Force Human Beings To Despise Themselves Is What I Call Hell.