One Can't Carry One's Father's

Matisse Renovates Rather Than Innovates.

One Day/ One Day I Waited For Myself/ I Said To Myself Guillaume It's Time You Came/ So I Could Know Just Who I Am/ I Who Know Others.

Without Artists, The Sublime Idea Men Have Of The Universe Would Collapse With Dizzying Speed.

We Cannot Carry Our Father's Corpse With Us Everywhere We Go.

Without Poets, Without Artists, Men Would Soon Weary Of Nature's Monotony. The Sublime Idea Men Have Of The Universe Would Collapse With Dizzying Speed. The Order Which We Find In Nature, And Which Is Only An Effect Of Art, Would At Once Vanish. Everything Would Break Up In Chaos. There Would Be No Seasons, No Civilization, No Thought, No Humanity; Even Life Would Give Way, And The Impotent Void Would Reign Everywhere.