Opium Teaches Only One Thing,

Even The West Has Known The Architecture Of Empty Space, Whose Object, For Thousands Of Years, Has Been Less To Construct Divine Houses, Than To Create Sacred Places, To Seize Upon Mystery And To Immerse Man In It-whether By Raising The Cyclopean Pedestal That Surrounds Him With Stars, Or By Hollowing Out The Sanctuary That Wraps Him In Haunted Night.

In Art, We Are The First Heirs Of All The Earth. . . . Accidents Impair And Time Transforms, But It Is We Who Choose.

Just As A Musician Loves Music And Not Nightingales, And A Poet Loves Poetry And Not Sunsets, A Painter Is Not Primarily A Person Who Responds To Figures And Landscapes. He Is Primarily One Who Loves Pictures.

The Thrill Of Creation Which We Experience Which We Experience When We See A Masterpiece Is Not Unlike The Feeling Of The Artist Who Created It; Such A Work Is A Fragment Of The World Which He Has Annexed And Which Belongs To Him Alone.

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.